Three Years

Today, September 25, 2012 is the three year anniversary for Healing Morning blog! I almost overlooked it, as today was a typically busy day.  I happened to scroll down and see the widget that tracks my blog-i-versary and sure enough, today was the big day!

Three years seems such a short time.  In some ways, I've lived many lifetimes in that short span.  I've met incredibly gifted blog writers and formed beautiful friendships.  The blogging world is vast, and I'm thrilled when I look at my blog stats and see that I have a truly global readership.  That phenomenon never ceases to  fascinate and amaze me, that people the world round follow my writing and look forward to my articles.

Writers write, just as musicians create music, artists create art, athletes achieve physical feats.  Each of us seek to express ourselves in our unique manner.  Secretly, we hope others will find our work pleasing and worthy of attention, yet many of us tend to squirm and wrestle with any large amount of recognition.

It's a curious thing, embracing a level of transparency with my writing.  I've said it over and over in these past three years, that when I write something that really exposes my true self, when I write something that pushes the envelope on a spiritual level and uncovers sides of me that up until that point had remained safely hidden and protected....those are the articles that always receive the strongest and most positive responses.  In becoming a blogger, I've learned to trust my gut instincts and bravely rip away layers of protection, walls that used to be high and thick.  I have grown in friendship and in self-knowledge and I expect that both of these will continue to flourish.

I find a sense of personal joy with my writing here.  Healing Morning is where I come to express random thoughts and concepts that don't fit into my business writing.  It is here that I give free rein to whimsy, to laughter, to tears, to strength, to weakness and every emotion that exists.  You who visit and take time to read my thoughts, and then go that extra step to leave wonderful comments - I wish I could find words to express how much I appreciate each of you.  You add to the experience of my writing, adding your unique strokes of color and brightness to the canvas that I paint with my words.

To each of you:

Namaste'....meaning,

"I honor the place within you where the entire Universe resides; I honor the place within you of love, of light, of truth, of peace; I honor the place within you, where, when you are in that place in you, and I am in that place in me, there is only one of us."

Thank you for visiting.  I look forward to celebrating many more years of writing, blogging and fellowship.

- Dawn

Grasshopper Thoughts, Vol. VI September 2012

It's been ages since I last grasshoppered, so it's definitely time to embrace the concept again!  Grasshoppering is cathartic, after all, so here I go....

• The great debate of ketchup vs mustard on French fries exists in my world.  Mustard, you say?  Yes, I do!  Ketchup is usually a bit too sugary for my taste.  So I usually have a puddle of each on my plate when I indulge in French fries. There is also the odd occasion where I have either sour cream or mayonnaise with French fries, but that's a whole other debate.
• Whomever invented the little plastic prison to capture shavings on pencil sharpeners, you're my official Hero. And whomever finally incorporated that concept into sharpeners for cosmetic eye and lip liner pencils, Bravo!  I applaud your brilliance.  
• I was looking at river rocks the other day.  What is it about their smoothly tumbled, pleasing to the touch surface that makes me so happy?  Perhaps it's just that.  They're simple and beautiful.  Dreamy in variations of colors, usually.  I have a silver bowl full on my desk that I've collected over a lifetime.  The newest one is a pale, gentle peachy shade and is blobby in shape.  It fits beautifully into the palm of my hand.
• I have a weakness for dimples.  There, I said it.  If you're a man with dimples, and you smile at me, I'm going to get a wee bit giddy.  There's not a whit of logic to it.  Dimples just flutter me, and with one person in particular, they tend to short circuit my brain for a microsecond or two. This is not a bad thing, btw. :)
• Vinegar is awesome!  Apple cider vinegar, rice wine vinegar, balsamic vinegar, plain old white kitchen vinegar....I love them all.  Wonderful for toxin-free cleaning, but even more so for cooking.  The more tart, sour, tangy, the better, in my opinion.  As I mentioned with ketchup, I'm not a big fan of things overly sweet.  
• And vinegar gives us pickles!  So, obviously, it follows that I'm a pickle person.  Sour, tart, crunchy, savory.  Just the scent of pickling liquid makes my mouth water.  Being southern, I have to give a special nod to that delightful treat of pickled okra.  If you haven't tried it, don't knock it!  I promise you, it's delicious!!!  :)
• Snort-larfing.  You know you do it occasionally!  I did it recently over a random comment at my family reunion.  It wasn't a quiet one, either.  No, it was a full fledged, less-than-feminine full out snort-larf.  Sometimes life is just that funny.
• We're moving into the fall months here in East Tennessee, and cooler mornings, milder temps during the day, lower humidity and promise of fall color in the Smoky Mountains are upon us.  I love this time of year!

Ahhh....much better.  Now my noggin is a bit more clear of clutter.  If only I could incorporate this into housecleaning!  Alas, it will never happen.  Grasshoppering is relegated to my mental faculties.  The writing process of grasshoppering is fun, though.  The recent summer months have been challenging for many of us, myself included, so there is merit in the occasional post that addresses a moment of whimsy.  

Quiet Tribute

*I wrote this article in 2012, and feel that it still speaks my heart and my perspective on the day this tragedy struck my country.  It is my way of paying tribute and remembering those who fell that day.  - S. Dawn Sievers*

I was taking a shower that morning, and heard the phone ringing.  I didn't think much of it, as I had plans to meet a girlfriend for lunch later that day.  I finished showering, decided to dry my hair before listening to the answering machine message.  But the phone rang again, and yet again, encouraging me to stop everything and answer the call. It was my girlfriend telling me the USA had been attacked, that a plane had hit one of the Towers of the World Trade Center and another one had gone down in a field somewhere in Pennsylvania, and equally nightmarish - a living nightmare - was the news that our Pentagon had also suffered an attack....all of this happening within a very short span of time on the clock of that September morning.

This was difficult to even picture or fathom, because this type of thing just doesn't happen to America.  Or, it didn't.  Up until that day, our country had lived in a unique bubble, safe and never assailed by outside forces in this modern age.  The bubble was broken that day.

I turned the TV on and watched, horrified.  The second plane hit the second of the World Trade Center Towers before my eyes and the eyes of the whole world.  Comprehension and terrible understanding sank in.  As I left my house to drive over to my girlfriend's house, I noticed the absolute hush over the day.  Some of this hush was due to all airplanes except for military being grounded, but it was more than that.

There was a hush in nature.  

No birds were singing.  I remember that very clearly, and I stood outside listening for a good 15 minutes, looking around me, but the sounds of nature were silent.  My home at the time was surrounded by heavy tracts of woods, so there were always the sounds of birds chirping.  But not that day.  It was silent outside.  There was no breeze.  Just a still hush over the world that was palpable.  I will never forget how it felt, as though the world was holding its breath for the people who perished that day.

I spent the day getting in touch with everyone I love the most, making sure they were safe.  There was an intrinsic need to connect with them, and I learned I was not alone in that need.  Phone lines and computer servers were overloaded with extremely high levels of activity that day.  I grieved at what a great loss we had incurred and struggled to make sense of it.  There is no sense to be garnered, obviously.  The only positive thing I can take from it is that we survived it.  Our country survived, but thousands of innocent people died.  This many years later, the memories are still vivid and fresh, and for many....still raw.

I've read other people's thoughts of where they were that day. I was in Knoxville, Tennessee, living my very ordinary life, safe and far from harm's way.  That prompted me to share my memories and what still stands out so strongly in my memory was how quiet the day became.  For those who believe this planet is inanimate, without reaction to tragic events, I would hold that memory out as an example of the exact opposite.

I felt the earth react and give quiet tribute to the ones who left us.

And the dance continues....

Photo:  www.splittree.org

"You need to blog about this, Dawn."

A good amount of inspiration for my blog posts here at Healing Morning come from conversations with friends.  The conversation from this week was a delicate one, dealing with the way that we react within the parameters of a personal relationship.  My comment to my girlfriend was that the majority of my life, I've been fairly calm, even-natured, and on an even keel.  This applied to me in past relationships, which is why the current situation I'm in regularly throws me for a loop!  I find myself....I said this in my last blog post....greeting myself in ways that I would never have predicted.  And in the process of figuring this out, conversations take place, and friends encourage me to write about the topic.  So, here I am, discussing this greeting of myself.

What does that mean....greeting myself?  It means discovering reactions and behaviors that literally stun me, because they're so dramatically opposite to what I have come to know of myself.  Relationships are crafty things with how they hold up a very clear mirror to show us who we are at our core.  And certain relationships, the really good ones...the ones that push us to grow, those are the ones that hold up the biggest, clearest mirrors.  Those are the ones that uncover heretofore hidden sides of us that really needed to be revealed.

What have I learned about myself most recently?  Well, one thing that wasn't new is still there.  I have a stubborn side that kicks in strongly.  But that's not something that I'm learning from.  Instead, the surprising areas are the ones that are Ego driven....and that are seated in Fear.  I have watched myself in the last several months of being around this new person.  So much of the experiences are wonderful.  Fun, exciting, new, touching.  But along with all of that newness and excitement comes Fear.  We can't escape it.  It's part and parcel of allowing that new person to get close to us on that elemental level.  THAT part is not fun.  Not to me.  It means I have to allow myself, and even force myself to be vulnerable.

It also means I have to force myself to be strong.  I'm a Fixer.  I want the whole wide world to be happy and content.  And I will sacrifice my own well-being to make sure others are happy first.  That's not healthy, as I'm sure any of you reading this are thinking.  I agree with you.  It's a very big fault that I've been working on most of my life.  That's where forcing myself to be strong comes in.  That's where I have to stand up for myself and establish boundaries.  That's where I have to honor myself and insist on mutual respect.  Sounds easy, yes?  Well, it's seriously challenging on any given day for me!  Downright painful at times, I admit it. Boundaries and establishing them in a fair manner within a relationship is something I am still learning.

So, as I grow in response to this new person in my orbit, I am discovering some traits that have lain dormant for most of my life. And they are rarely attractive traits. My stubborn side usually brings them kicking to life and then things come out of my mouth that catch me off guard.  Did I really just say that?!  Have I always felt that way?!  Where the heck did that come from?!  I learned many years ago that when I react with instant anger or defensiveness, that's a spot that needs some digging into.  Because the reflexive anger and defensiveness are hiding a long covered wound.

I tend to be more inwardly focused than some.  From a very early age, I noticed negative cycles that existed within my family dynamic.  Those cycles caused a great deal of pain to everyone, and I was determined to find a way to break those cycles.  I began to research and investigate and study.  I found out why we repeat patterns of an emotional content.  I found out why we attract the same types of people over and over.  And I learned my own patterns.  You'd think this much research and educating of self would produce a woman who has it all together, yes?  Nope.  I'm as human as the rest of the world and I'm not ashamed to say I've spent many a year bumbling my way through relationships.  I also admit that I found a level of security and safety in studying the clinical aspect of emotions.  That gave me distance and I didn't have to engage on those levels as much.  But that sneaky organ, my heart, was always there and I wasn't immune to the trials and tribulations of love.

I won't bore you all with my personal relationship history.  My point here, today, is to focus on the fact that when we react violently....in fear, anger, defensiveness or any other negative emotion, that is hiding something crucial to our emotional growth.  We can ignore it and continue to stay rooted in those old patterns, but I've never been a proponent of hiding from the obvious once it jumps up and bites me on the nose.  Once something becomes clear to me on a personal level that oh, wow, THAT was an extreme reaction, Dawn, then it's time to do some hard work.  I start sifting through the layers until I reach what I feel is the core of that specific fear.  It's not pleasant sometimes, but the more I do it, the more I learn about myself, and the easier it is for me to process through the emotions and the realizations.  When I'm given a safe environment and an understanding person to bounce these realizations off of, I am able to jettison the behaviors that are fear laden and unnecessary.  It is surprisingly simple, once you take that deep breath and plunge inward.  It's sometimes messy, because those hidden, old wounds can be nasty to confront, but as with anything, the first step is the most scary.  With repetition, it becomes easier and more efficient.

I'm very fortunate with this new person in that there is a support, a lack of judgment, and a level of curiosity to listen when I work my way through the why's of my sometimes surprising reactions.  He might not always agree, or see things the way that I do, but he listens and respects the conclusions I come to.  Often, he offers insights that flip a new light bulb of clarity on over my fair head.  That's rare and I am quite aware that I'm lucky to meet this person.  Something that is somewhat humorous is when I think I've behaved in a very over the top, borderline unacceptable manner, I am regularly told that no, that moment hadn't really made that much of a blip on his radar.  Well, huh.  That's when I have to laugh at how overly seriously I tend to take myself!  It's new stuff to me, on an emotional level in relationship with this other person, so it feels large and overwhelming.  Sometimes it IS large, but a great deal of the time, it really isn't.  I'm learning that as well, that it's not all huge, scary and insurmountable.  Much of it is small and easily dispatched, but it does require effort and looking oneself in the eye with absolute honesty.

So, it's a journey, this process of growing in respect to allowing someone close.  Close to the heart.  Close enough to matter.  Close enough to hurt.  All of those have happened.  I expect more of the same will happen over time, as it's the ones who matter the most who can hurt us the most.  Perhaps not intentionally, but that's the power we place in that other person's hands when we open up our heart.  The key part to remember is that they're allowing us the same power in return.  I think we forget that important part; I know I do.  I have another girlfriend who constantly reminds me that I'm not the only one who has uncertainties, doubts and insecurities.  Men are chock full of the same whirling emotions as women; they just tend to store them away in a different manner than we do.

I'm learning that I've had some hidden traits that aren't pretty.  Some of them have truly surprised me.  I was rigid and inflexible in some areas that were downright unrealistic, but they hadn't ever been triggered before.  I had to live the experiences first, before I knew they existed in my psyche. Then I could address them and decide whether they served a good purpose.  Usually, they didn't.  Another thing that I've been fortunate in has been that this person is giving me not only what I call that Soft Place to Fall when things are sad, bad or scary, but this person is giving me an equal amount of respect and allowing me to express anger and frustration, doubts and other negative emotions.  That's a new experience for me.  Being allowed to express genuine, valid negative emotions freely has been a very new, slightly uncomfortable thing, but ultimately, it has been freeing.  I'm being given freedom to express anger!  I'm being given space to be irritated and irritable.  And I'm still accepted and appreciated at the end of the day.  Again....huh.  What a concept.  What an experience, this process of being in a truly adult exchange where respect is given and received.

Another big truth is that in the process of addressing these once dormant traits that pop up, I don't always express myself in the best way, the first time.  The first time of giving it voice, I almost always say it in a way, that to my ears, is too forward, too harsh or demanding.  I hate that!!  It happens because those wounds are created in our childhood, and when they get dredged back up, we tend to emote and give them voice from that same emotional age where they were inflicted.  I.e, we come across as though we're throwing a tantrum of sorts.  But I learn from it, and I consciously shift my emotional awareness into adult mentality. As I learn, I shear off the rough edges of this new discovery and I shape what remains into a mature strength and a Life Skill.  A new tool that does serve a good purpose.

In time, I hope that I'll find a way to give these new discoveries a softer presentation, but for now, they don't always come out that way.  In some ways, I'm like a newborn foal finding her feet, wobbling about and staggering before my knees lock and I stand straight.  And I'm learning that even when I do present this new knowledge with more volume than necessary, the sky doesn't fall.  I also learn more about myself and that other person as a result.  I've said it over and over - the way we choose to react to a given set of circumstances is how we define ourselves to the world.

The Persian poet-philosopher, Rumi, constantly captures my heart and imagination with his thoughts, written hundreds of years past.  This quote applies to today's post:

Don't look for me in a human shape,
I am inside your looking.

I'm finding that Universal Truth that this new person is mirroring the Me that I've worked so hard to become.  Things are far from perfect with this new experience, mind you.  There are challenges all over the place, and we're both doing that awkward dance that people do as they learn one another. Plus, what's life without a little drama?  I would rather live out loud in bright splashes of color than drudge along, cloaked in muffling shades of gray.

We're learning a new language, in effect.  The way we each express ourselves, the way we each react emotionally, our senses of humor, our intellect....all of that creates a language unique to us that the other has to learn.  And as we learn that other person in all their depth and glory, we get triggered in surprising emotional ways.  We react in ways that shock us and that other person.  If we're lucky, that other person finds our own depths and glory to be worth the stumbles, fumbles and outright flubs, and they stick around to see what will happen next.  They embrace us for who we are and they ask the same of us.  And the dance continues.....

Surveying the wreckage

Photo:  ansil.tumblr.com

In the last 2-3 months, I've had a decidedly eventful life.  At face value, that sounds exciting, doesn't it?  It hasn't been.  It's been interesting, yes, and I've certainly grown in ways I would never have predicted or imagined prior to these events, but none of it was exciting.  Epiphanies were the by product of these events.  The following is a comment I left on the blog post of my dear friend, Debra El Ramey (http://debrasblogpureandsimple.blogspot.com/2012/07/inch-by-inch.html):

"I found this interesting. It would be simple to say that I am writing my own manuscripts with hopes of being published, and that is true. What came to mind, however, is that I am releasing some layers of armor that no longer serve me. And the realization came from a very harsh, unexpected lesson - the death of a loved one polarized everything in my life and from that one breath to the next, I was forever changed. I recognized that something that had been valid, important and very passionately necessary to me one day simply became unimportant in one powerful blow. I am now surveying the wreckage of some vestiges of ego and processing and learning who I am now, afterwards.  And I do believe I have the genesis of my next blog post.
I never cease to marvel at how I greet myself anew when I visit here, Debra."
Debra's post:  http://debrasblogpureandsimple.blogspot.com/2012/07/inch-by-inch.html         *I encourage you to visit Debra's wonderful blog!*

Those who know me well might be surprised to learn that I'm stubborn.  I am.  I admit it freely.  I don't know if I'm more stubborn than most, or if I'm just more vocal about it when need be.  What I do question about my stubbornness is if I subsequently require a more dramatic set of lessons in order to be awakened to what should otherwise be obvious to my pea brain.  These recent epiphanies came on the heels of some very hard and harsh experiences.

In May of this year (2012), I went through a series of car calamities that grew progressively worse, with one event being a near miss where I could easily have died.  My back right tire exploded in rush hour traffic, literally lifting my car up in the air, then throwing my car directly into the oncoming lane where I should have been hit head on by a monster truck and three other cars.  Somehow, they all swerved and avoided me and I managed to wrestle my car back into the proper lane without hitting anyone or being hit.  There was a lesson in that experience - a big one, and I'm still processing it.  Mere weeks later, my car finally bit the dust.  This experience happened on the heels of a personal situation that, at the time, was driving me to near distraction.  The resulting epiphany was quite dramatic and gave me the opportunity to walk in that other person's (the other person in that relationship) shoes and know and feel immediately what that person had been attempting to communicate to me.  So, two similar lessons layered one atop the other and kicked me into a new state of awareness with a rather brutal boot.

Fast forward to July of this year (2012) and I lost a family member to suicide.  What has come to mind, in the days since, is that I am releasing some layers of armor that no longer serve me. This realization came from the very harsh, unexpected lesson of the death of that loved one.  It polarized everything in my life and from that one breath to the next, I was forever changed. I recognized that something that had been valid, important and very passionately necessary to me one day simply became unimportant in one powerful blow. I am now surveying the wreckage of some vestiges of ego and processing and learning who I am now, afterwards.  As you can see, this is the comment I wrote above, on Debra's blog post Comments section.

Those valid issues that held such importance to me are still valid, and I daresay I will revisit them in the future to assess their new level of importance.  But right now, today, I am changed.  I came to a swift, blinding rush of realization, courtesy of the finality that sudden death of a loved one brings.  I remember reflecting on the decision I had made the day before, a very permanent, final, tough decision.  It ended a relationship that was important to me, that decision.  At the time, I fully, firmly believed I was making the right choice for myself.  I still believe that. At that moment in time, it was the right decision to make.  But after I lost a loved one to suicide, I was made bluntly aware that the person I was when I made that dramatic decision no longer existed.

It's fair to say we change with each tick of the clock. It's a minute splitting of hairs, if we want to go down that spiral of thought.  It does apply here, that splitting of hairs. I received a fateful phone call that someone I loved took their own life, and the world changed for me in that jagged flash of words.  As I went through the grief process, I reflected on the fact that nothing I could do...no decision I could make would make a difference with that equation. Nothing could bring my loved one back.  All I had power over was myself and the decisions and choices I make.  And I was made dramatically aware that that hard line choice I had made the day before, the one that had felt so strongly right and valid, was no longer a truth for me.

So, rather than inch by inch of progress, as Debra's blog speaks of, I began to peel layer by layer away of my old self.  I stood and surveyed the wreckage of where my Ego firmly planted itself, hand in hand with Pride and Fear, and made a defiant stand.  Those noble flags of Self no longer flew with bright colors on the landscape of my soul.  Instead, they rested quietly on veritable flag poles, waiting to be lowered, folded and tucked away, as they were simply no longer necessary.

In the process of finding my feet, finding my balance in this new existence, I've mentioned to a couple of people that in the last 6 - 8 months, I've been greeting myself in ways that I would never have predicted.  Relationships do that....they provide a very clear mirror for us to see who we are, to see our behaviors and if we're smart, they provide clarity for us to make necessary changes.  I've been experiencing that very thing and I'm not ashamed to admit that I didn't always like what that mirror showed me.  Living in Ego is something we all do and it's a very human behavior.  It....living in Ego, can be defined, also, as living in Fear.  That is a behavior that I work on constantly to mitigate in myself, with an eye towards cutting repetitive, negative cycles that serve no other purpose but to hold me back.

A little more than a month later, I am still adapting to this new Self.  I am also continuing to greet myself within the auspices of this relationship that shapes me on a constant basis.  I like the changes that are taking place; I like the level of communication that is being fostered on both sides.

There is value in being broken down; I think most of us recognize this fact. Remaining in a rigid mindset might feel comfortable and familiar, but the freedom that breaking free of those inflexible walls offers is a joyful thing to experience.  I'm breathing differently....more deeply....more confidently.  I am looking at myself and others with new eyes.

And I'm climbing a new hill, because that's what we do as we move forward in Life.  We traverse those endless hills and valleys.  From the viewpoint of the upward slope of this current hill, I look over my shoulder....just once....to survey the recent wreckage.  Then I turn and keep walking forward, and upward.  What is ahead of me is wide open road.

Noble Undertaking

Photo: www.blog.utest.com

I first wrote this article in February 2010, prior to the Winter Olympics that year.  We are now approaching the Summer Olympics of 2012, so I am adding on to this original post.  My thoughts haven't shifted to any large degree and I think this article still stands strong enough to be shared again.

The Summer Olympics begin this year the weekend of July 27th.  Those who know me well are quite aware of the fact that I'm not the most athletically gifted person in the world.   I was never one to join team sports or be a fan of getting sweaty and dirty while pushing my physical limits to extremes in the pursuit of athletic excellence.  It may seem contradictory, in light of these facts, that I am a fervent fan of the Olympics.  I admit it's a bit unusual for someone who is not all that athletic to be so dedicated to watching the penultimate two week period of all things athletically related.

Why am I such a fan?  What is it about the Olympic Winter and Summer Games that captures the attention, imagination and hearts of the whole world?  One reason is simply that very fact...it is a moment in time where the whole world is focused on one brief window, one narrow, specific place on the planet, where a small retinue of talented young people gather from every country, in peace, to compete in a variety of individual and group sports.

The Olympic motto is "Citius, Altius, Fortius", a Latin expression meaning "Faster, Higher, Stronger".

The Olympic Creed is...

"The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part, just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph, but the struggle. The essential thing is not to have conquered, but to have fought well." (Olympic Motto & Creed, Wikipedia)

During every Olympics, there are remarkable stories of incredible feats of athletic strength, courage and endurance that, any other time, would be considered unreachable, impossible to achieve. Yet, they do happen, and the blooming of the human spirit, the digging deep within that these young people do is what speaks to each of us in a way that is so touching. We collectively witness athleticism at its highest, most pure level....drama, unparalelled pressure and demands on the human body, excitement and patriotic fever run rampant. Indeed, many of the most memorable moments during the Olympic Games aren't of gold medal winning performances - they are of the enduring human stubborn refusal to give up that burns in the hearts of these athletes who push themselves to finish their race, their sport, their individual competition, because they are at the Olympics.

In ancient times, warriors would compete in the Greek Games in peace, setting aside their weapons and coming together in the spirit of the Games.  This most vital component exists today in our modern Olympic Games and, I feel, is another reason the Olympics are such a unifying moment for the entire world.  Thousands of hopeful young people gather together for this same noble concept.  Most of them will not win a medal.  For the majority of the athletes, simply winning a spot on their country's Olympic Team and making it to the Olympics is a dream beyond compare and a once in a lifetime experience that few are blessed to live. 

For me, it is a two week period that is full of hope, and a purity of energy that lifts the whole world up.  I watch everything during the Olympics and it is extremely important to me, when a U.S. athlete wins a medal, that we are able to witness the medal ceremony and hear our National Anthem being played.  I get choked up every single time I hear the U.S. National Anthem played, and my emotions are racked higher during the Olympics.  It is a "feel good" moment that lasts for two weeks and creates some of the most enduring memories.

If any of the people reading this post watched the last Summer Olympics with me, who among us will ever forget watching Michael Phelps break the swimming records and medal victories set by Mark Spitz in the 1970's?  I watched, absolutely spellbound, wishing with all my heart for that young man to achieve the goals that so many doubted, scoffed and outright declared were impossible.  And, he did achieve them...every single one.  I watched every single event he competed in and I witnessed every single gold medal performance, as well as each medal ceremony that was televised.  I experienced that euphoria that all sports fans feel when their team wins, but for me, it goes so much deeper than that simple desire.  This year, Michael Phelps will be closing out his Olympic career at these Summer Games.  I hope to watch him increase his medal winnings, and I look forward to seeing the upcoming new, young athletes who follow in his footsteps.

During those moments of watching Michael Phelps achieve his mutiple gold medal wins, and so many other Olympic performances, my heart and spirit were transported in a manner that I sometimes experience when I hear an especially beautiful piece of music, or witness a uniquely beautiful moment in nature....feel an especially bright moment of love for another.  It is difficult to put into words, the emotions that I feel during the Olympic Games, but I am positive that the energy that is created during those two brief weeks every two years is very important to the overall energy of our planet Earth.  I feel that it is a healing energy that takes place and I also believe the young people who compete in the Olympic Games are forever changed by their individual experiences.  They then go forth to live their lives, it is to be hoped, and do more wonderful, positive things.

I believe that each country cares about the Olympic Games for more reasons than just winning.  Yes, of course every athlete attending the Olympic Games dreams of winning that gold medal, standing on that podium and hearing their own National Anthem played.  Beyond that ultimate moment, the Olympics themselves present an ideal - a wish and a dream of everything being possible and within the grasp of each athlete.  The Olympic Games hold elation, promise...and possibly most importantly, the Games represent Hope.  In these modern times, I cannot think of any single human emotion that is more important than to feel hopeful. 

So, in these next two weeks, everyone who knows me well will sigh, shake their heads in slight amusement, and agree to not ask me to come to dinner, agree to not call me after 7 pm and then greet me again at the end of the Olympic Games.  They know they will hear me wax rhapsodic about the highlights of the Olympic Games for the next couple of weeks, and they'll kid me about my borderline unreasonable devotion to not missing a single, exciting moment of televised coverage. 

It's okay - they're used to me, and I'm used to them, and I am not offended when they find me amusing.  I know that I'm a bit outside the norm in this regard.  It makes me happy to watch the Olympic Games, plain and simple.  In the coming two weeks, I am confident that I will witness some truly inspirational, amazing moments.  I am equally confident that for two short weeks, this beautiful planet that I love so deeply will also bask in the higher vibration that is generated by the Olympic Games.  For a short period of time, magnificent competition, experiences, emotions and memories will blaze brightly and proudly.  And I will have been there to see it.  My memories will be richer, my heart will be stronger, and my Soul will be gladdened. 

Perhaps, for those of us not so athletically gifted, the Olympic Games are also a moment to simply appreciate what those who are truly athletically gifted can accomplish.  At the end of the day, the Games are an exercise in pursuing excellence, pursuing dreams and being up at the top of a mountain, poised to jump out bravely into the unknown and grab victory in both hands.  When you think about it, that's a noble undertaking for two otherwise ordinary weeks out of the year. 

Sad Weathering - Suicide and Practising Compassion

Photo:  fr.treklens.com/gallery/photo

Suicide.  It's a harsh, ragged, ugly word.  It conjures equally dark, despairing mental images, and finally, it inflicts a quality of pain on those left living that is difficult to quantify.

My family is weathering such an event. It is very fresh, having happened this past weekend.  One of my cousins took her own life.  I will not go into further detail, as I want to respect my family and her beloved memory.  What I want to talk about today is all of the emotion that swirls around this verboten word, verboten act.

Judgment is almost instantaneous when you hear the word "suicide".

• "Oh, they must've been very weak."  
• "Suicide is the coward's way out."  
• "Why didn't they ask for help?"
• "They're in a better place."  
• "I'll pray for them, because they're going to burn in hell eternally."

I think most of these are understandable thoughts, human ones. And they are very common to hear after a suicide death, I am learning.  But I will tell you, from my own very raw emotional state, they are unnecessary and they're cruel to speak to anyone who is weathering the fallout out of suicide.  We who are left behind to pick up the pieces do not need to defend the actions of our loved one.  We do not need to come up with logical answers as to why that loved one made that final decision. No one but that person can answer what thoughts went through their mind that tipped their hand in those final moments.  We need for you to be there for us in support, love and care.  Sadly, this is rarely what people think to offer, or they feel that any of the above comments are somehow going to offer solace.  They do not do that. What gives solace to each of us will differ, but just know that words of judgment are not appropriate or helpful when a family is coping with a suicide death.

In my opinion, anyone who commits suicide is far from weak.  Nor are they cowardly.  Consider the amount of bravery it takes to make that final motion that ends your life - could anyone honestly imagine that a weak person is capable of such a thing?  I think it takes a huge amount of bravery, but I'm sure many will strongly disagree with me.  Weakness is certainly evident when anyone is in such a distressed and despairing state of mind that death appears to be their only viable option, but that is not a weakness of character.  It is a state of mental illness that should engender compassion and understanding, rather than strident jumps to condemnation and judgement.

Why didn't they ask for help?  Good question.  It is one that will torment those left behind for many years, perhaps for the rest of their natural lives.  Perhaps that person DID ask for help, and no one listened, or the plea wasn't recognized as such....those being asked simply didn't realize the enormity of the request.  We all get busy with our daily existence and we brush aside seemingly surface level conversations that later, after a death has occurred, suddenly clarify and show us the depth of pain that loved one was in.  So, we turn that judgment and condemnation inward and the pain is compounded daily, like the interest rate on a bank loan.

Depression is not one dimensional, and it is simplistic to suggest that it can be doctored up and resolved if the person suffering a depression episode just talks to someone. It is different for every person who experiences clinical depression as to how it manifests, but there are some commonalities. 

I can say with a fair degree of confidence that most people suffering a depression cycle who have taken that final step to commit suicide have gone through multiple rounds of therapy, have talked and talked with friends, family and pastors, preachers and spiritual advisors, have put in earnest work on themselves, have taken prescription medications and tried holistic therapies. They've reached out during those initial scary first, second, third and more attempts to take their lives, and if they were lucky to reach out to the right person and they were willing to be talked down off the proverbial suicide ledge, they're still living today. With depression, the reality is that it is usually a repetitive cycle these people experience and it is a grueling, grinding experience that eventually wears them down.  

A mindset that has nothing to do with clear, mentally healthy logic sets in where they convince themselves that the world will be fine, and their loved ones will be better off without them.  

Yes, they know that people will grieve, but they are convinced that this final act of taking their life is truly for the best, and they're doing the world and their loved ones a favor.  The skewed mindset that takes over makes this train of thought sound just convincing enough to that worn down, tired spirit that that terrible final decision is enacted. 

The reality is that if someone you love is set in their mind on taking their life, not much any of us can say or do will have much of an effect other than to delay the inevitable. 

• Most likely, that loved one has attempted suicide more than once in the past, or they've given a lot of thought to it, or they're dropping hints in conversation that they're contemplating it, and the hints are so minute and purposely veiled that people don't recognize the warning flag. 
• Most likely, they've cried wolf repeatedly to the point that those close to them become inured to that one final time that they're really serious.  OR, another truth is that they've exhausted those close to them with repeated suicide attempts and those people have run out of ideas to help, support to offer, energy to pour into that bottomless pit of despair that no one but that individual can heal. 
• There isn't any blueprint for how someone approaches suicide or makes that final choice, but if there is any truth to accept, it is that most likely, nothing any of us might have said or done could have stopped that person from their actions. And because of this, no one should EVER be made to feel guilty because their loved one took their own life!!  

They're in a better place.  Perhaps they are, given that anyone who contemplates suicide is in an obviously dark, despairing emotional and mental space.  I will tell you that hearing "they're in a better place" is not what I want(ed) to hear in those first few hours.  I was blessed to be able to call someone close to me and equally blessed that that person came to my side immediately and stayed with me through the majority of that first awful day.  He didn't offer platitudes, judgments or any of the above comments I've listed.  He was simply there for me.  Allowing me to cry, allowing me to process through the wildly swinging pendulum of emotions, and simply being there for and with me.  That was what I needed.  A familiar face, simple companionship, sincere care and friendship, and the space to process the rawness of grief.  Other people might find comfort in platitudes and surface level statements; I do not mean to throw out my own harsh judgments when I know that every person who utters such platitudes is truly doing and saying the only things they know.  I am sharing here what worked best for me.

I'm not going to dignify the "they're going to burn in hell eternally" comment beyond simply saying shame on anyone who is thoughtless enough to utter such a statement to someone who has just lost a loved one to suicide.  Yes, I heard this statement this week, more than once, and I found it to be the most incredibly ugly,  unnecessary, rude thing I've ever heard in my life.  Please, exercise common sense, people. No one deserves to have to hear such a thing about someone they loved. Prayers are most certainly appreciated, but comments about eternal damnation?  Absolutely not.

Most of us have heard of the five stages of grief:  

1.     Denial

2.     Anger

3.     Bargaining

4.     Depression

5.     Acceptance

Several years ago, I wrote about this whole thing, the grief process, and how it tends to manifest around High Holy Days, how suicides and deaths increase around Christmas and Easter and other Holy Days. (Holiday Stages, 12/21/2009 Healing Morning)  In that article, I discussed the fact that those five stages of grief don't necessarily neatly process for us one single time and get tied up in a pretty bow to be tucked away and never felt again.  In fact, grief is never neat and pretty.  It is jagged and raw and ugly, and has no semblance of logic to it.  Nor do those stages of grief hit us only once.  They revisit in varying degrees over the coming years.  I am well aware of this fact, so I know I will be dealing with ebbs and flows of my own grief process for a while....probably for years.  Right now, I cannot imagine ever reaching a stage of acceptance where I will not miss my cousin with a sense of urgency and bewilderment.

Suicide creates its own well of pain, simply because it is a conscious act, a choice, that most view with the aforementioned condemnation and judgment.  I am certainly not going to suggest it is a good choice, or a rational one.  But I will say that for those left behind to pick up the pieces, understanding and compassion towards the whole situation is the kindest thing anyone can offer.  That means understanding and compassion for the ones left behind AND for the person who committed suicide. 

Suicide also engenders a lot of silence.  People are uncertain what to say when death by suicide occurs.  So, they quite often fall back on awkward silences or those harsh judgments mentioned above. If you can't bring yourself to understand why that person made that choice, and really, none of us can truly understand such a thing, then I would hope you can be capable of extending your heart in a compassionate manner.  Do your level best to keep your judgments to yourself, because they do not belong in the midst of those who are grieving.

My personal thoughts are not of anger towards my family member who took her own life.  Yes, I feel anger, but more towards the whole mess.  I feel anger that she will no longer be here to experience the beauty of our family and the beauty of life.  But more importantly, I am saddened beyond words to express that she's gone.  She's gone forever from our family, that familiar presence that I have always known to be there.  A beautiful, vibrant, talented life was cut short.  She's not here any longer, and I miss her already.  I will miss her for the rest of my life, and I'll have to put conscious effort into learning to live without her.  We are tasked with that chore when any loved one passes, but suicide makes the loss sharper, simply because it wasn't Destiny at work.  It was choice at work.  And it didn't have to happen.  It did happen, though, and my family is left with learning to live without her.  What I feel towards my cousin is love, and what I will always feel for her is love. Compassion. Sadness. A true wish that she had made a different choice. An obvious desire that she hadn't done this and I still had her here with me.  But abiding love is the mainstay.

I am experiencing a flood of memories of this cousin.  Childhood memories, all of us growing up together, and she being our role model.  Bright, happy, beautiful. In the coming weeks, we will have a memorial service during our yearly family reunion. I will be delivering the eulogy for my cousin.  And my own conscious choice is to celebrate her life, rather than dwell on the final dark moments that led to how her life ended.  There is much to put into words, this process of celebrating a life.  Right now, I am not certain how I will accomplish it.  Eventually, the words will flow as they always do, and I will have pages of words to speak in her memory.  The speaking part....that is where I am still unsure how I will do it.  How I will get through it.  Will I choke up?  Break down in tears and be unable to continue?  I hope not, as I staunchly insist that although suicide ended her life, that word does not define the beautiful person she was.

In the wee hours of the night after she left us, I finally calmed enough to check my Facebook page.  The following quote from the Persian poet-philosopher, Rumi, is what resonated strongly for me:

Although I may try to describe Love,

When I experience it, I am speechless.

No words can ever truly capture the essence of that person we each loved, nor can they give voice to the depth of love we feel for them, nor can they express the acute pain we feel when they leave us in an untimely manner.  Perhaps now, words aren't necessary any longer.  Simply remembering her loving Soul, her smile, her laughter, her simple enjoyment of life, her talent, the sound of her voice, the way it felt to hug her, the way she brightened the room, these are enough.

To any who read this who have experienced personal loss of a loved one to suicide, my thoughts, love, and prayers for healing and compassion go out to you.