Despite my best efforts, there are days when it all goes downhill. The coffee spills, the bag rips, I hurt myself, there is a need I cannot fulfill, complaints, disappointments… no matter what I do, the day cannot be turned around.
Yet I still try and remember I am fine.
I currently live in a city where one fifth of the population falls below the poverty line. 2nd Harvest, a food charity, serves 55,000 meals a week. They serve more meals in one week than runners running the NYC marathon. To put that in perspective; think of five people you know. Now imagine that one of them feels food insecure every day.
That is why, no matter how upset I am at the day, I try and remember that my fellow man, literally that fourth person over, is suffering too. It is a cold, but necessary comfort. A way to keep from wallowing in my own petty self-pity.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because, at the heart of it, it is just a meal. It is a chance to practice gratitude and break bread with friends and family. Such a simple idea.
But, for some of us, it is a reminder of what we lack, of what we cannot provide. For me, Thanksgiving is bittersweet this year. It marks one year from my mother’s diagnosis. In a week, it will be one year from “Five Days and Everything Changed.”
Holidays like this are fraught because they are simple, yet complicated. We get a chance to reflect and practice grace, yet we also don’t stop being ourselves. We show up as we are. And if we are struggling, if we are suffering, that will not change because we made a big meal.
And that is the point; there is so little that separates our suffering. We are all suffering. So, rather than isolate, we really need to reach out; try and help each other out.
As the holiday season ramps up, my hope for you is this:
May you feel loved,
May you be blessed with good food and care,
May you know joy,
and may your burdens be lightened.
With love,
Jen
Social Media: Stay in the Light
I know the dangers and pitfalls of social media. I know I will go into the vortex of “sosh meed” and it will most likely leave me feeling… meh. Yet, I also know that each day, at some point or another, I will end up on social media. I have accepted that at some point in every working day, I will feel the "meh" impact of social media.
Which is why I was so surprised today when I actually felt uplifted after being online. My feed was filled with graduations, and babies, and birthdays, and people who have survived surgeries, and people who are cheering themselves on as they battle with their demons. Today, I needed a break from my worries and the most unlikely of sources - social media - jumped in and gave me a little taste of sweetness.
Miraculous!
Now, I am not going to say we should all go and indulge until our eyeballs fall out, but I do want give credit where credit’s due, so to all of you who:
Are meeting with family and friends, getting to go on that once in a lifetime vacation, or adopting a pet - that is so wonderful.
Graduated, retired, or newly promoted - you did it! I am so proud of you.
Gave birth. I can smell you from here baby, and you make my heart sing!
Had a Birthday! You made it another trip around the sun! I celebrate you.
To those of you who survived your surgeries, who are working on managing your mental illness, and sticking with recovery, looking for a new job - thank you for sharing your story and your vulnerability. You give me hope. You make me want to be a better person.
Summer is classically the season of fruitfulness. It is the time to allow life to sweeten and flourish. We go to the beach, we stay up late, we check out for awhile and it is wonderful. But, today I was reminded that no matter the season, we need lift each other up, celebrate our successes, share in our grief and support each other. We need each other.
So thank you for being you! You deserve all the good things. And I wish you all the best in the days ahead.
Five Days
The week after Thanksgiving I was supposed to go with my mom and sons to the Nutcracker. I have been going to the Nutcracker with my mom for as far back as I can remember because she loves theater. She bought tickets for everything; big productions, local productions, community theater, high school musicals - she loved it all. The Nutcracker held a special place in her heart because it was Christmasy, and traditional and just... because.
This year my mom called on Saturday and said she couldn’t go to the Nutcracker, because she had the flu.
On Sunday, I went to see her and thought, “maybe she had a mini stroke...”
On Monday she went to the doctor and he thought, “yes, mini stroke.”
On Tuesday I spent the day with her eating soup, flipping through catalogs, watching PBS Kids.
On Wednesday she was rushed to the ER.
She never went home again.
Five days. Five days and everything changed.
This is the story I have been telling over, and over, and over again for the past 3 months. It is the story I repeat in my head. Five days and everything changed. Five day and she never went home again.
How quickly we went from the Nutcracker as usual, to terminal brain cancer.
How does that happen?
I think about all the things I didn’t get to say, all the things we didn’t get to do. I think about all the things I should have done.
There are the tropes we say when someone is losing a loved one. We say, “love your family and hug them as if it is was the last day.” We say, “live each day as if it is your last.”
It is a nice idea, but it is not practical. How do we live in a heightened sense of “pending end” every day? What would that even look like?
If I lived every day as if it was my last, I would not do laundry, eat healthy, or do the things. I like being neat and healthy, but let’s be honest - I would not do laundry on my last day of life.
I do the things because I have to live each day as if I was going to see tomorrow. I need to live with the expectation that there will be a tomorrow because I cannot sustain a sense of immediacy. It’s too much. It’s too intense.
And hugging someone as if it is their last day is gut wrenching. It is sad. It hurts. It is one of the most painful, awful things we ever get the opportunity to do.
And it is an opportunity, it is a gift. It is. Even though it sucks.
We say, “love them now for you might not get to love them tomorrow.” And that is true. Love each other now, but not as if you will never see each other again, but because you have the opportunity to do it now. Love and trust that there will be another Nutcracker. And, if another Nutcracker doesn’t come, if you are given the opportunity to love someone through their passing, do that too.
Do both.
Look to this day:
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence.
The bliss of growth,
The glory of action,
The splendour of achievement
Are but experiences of time.
For yesterday is but a dream
And tomorrow is only a vision;
And today well-lived, makes
Yesterday a dream of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well therefore to this day;
Such is the salutation to the ever-new dawn!
- By Kālidāsa