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Spirituality Category
As women, particularly caregivers, we have many conversations about our roles. We talk about them when we’re out for coffee with each other, on our facebook caregiver group, on this blog, in my coaching room; we discuss how to live expansive lives as women rather than becoming engulfed by our many roles. In fact, we could probably say all our self growth work is about separating ourselves, the individual woman, from the roles we’ve been designed, both by nature and nurture, to play.
I’ve been reading A Joseph Campbell Companion recently, an edited book of essays. Campbell, a follower of Jung, speaks of individuation, or become a released individual, saying that the aim of individuation is to find and learn to live out of one’s own centre. He goes on to say that this cannot be achieved by enacting and responding to any “masquerade of fixed roles”.
As we grow older, and hopefully wiser, I believe we also grow closer to the essence of who we truly are, that centre that Campbell speaks of. We’re often able to simplify our lives, as the things that feel unimportant fall away and we prioritize what really counts.
From my early years, when I was taught good emotional and psychological self-care, to my coaching trainings with Martha Beck and her focus on taking turtle steps, Buddhist teachings here at home and those of His Holiness the Dalai Lama in Dharamsala, India and the transformative quality of our time there, I’ve been evolving, slowly, slowly, as the Indians say.
We’re now living in a time when massive changes are taking place in our society, in our world. Everything from the economy to the environment, to our own internal sensibilities is shifting and we’re having to adjust to a new level accordingly. We don’t know yet exactly how things will play out when the dust settles. For some of us this seemingly constant adjustment to change is scary, for others the not-knowing is exciting.
For some strange reason, for many years I told myself a story about having control over my life, despite the many serious events that had taken place. I suppose it was my emotional/psychological protection to believe this. Somewhere along the way I gave up the idea that I had power over the major events in my life, beyond the obvious choices available to me with respect to family, career, geographic location, etcetera.
Our first few years on the West Coast were relatively serene, as we explored our new community and put down our roots here. Then things began to speed up somehow, and it was one change after another – perimenopause was a big one for me, then my partner went away to work in California and our dear dog became terminally ill immediately after he left, I returned to school and completed my counselling certification and internship and we moved to Vancouver for a while to work, then eventually back to our coastal paradise.
Through all this I became used to change as a constant state, rather than occasional life changes. This learning is a big help now as I make continual, small adjustments to the changes that come at me. As the world seems to be speeding up, my sense is that we are being pressed to let go, let go, more and more. Not to hang onto the things or relationships that no longer feel right to us…the jobs, the material stuff, the friendships, even the intimate relationships that no longer serve us.
When I try to analyze what’s taking place in my life and my world, I limits myself, sometimes I even grind to a halt. Taking time to simply breathe and sit or walk quietly is becoming more crucial. Call it what you like…meditation, being in nature, prayer, time alone, it doesn’t really matter…simply taking some time to breathe and to be each day brings us closer to ourselves, to our centre. Some refer to it as “the place where the whole universe dwells within you”. When I do this, that place of quiet calm feels very secure to me, and the noisy judgements stop!
As I continue with the editing of Book II of the MidLife Maze Series, my mind and spirit once again take me back to McLeod Ganj, Upper Dharamsala, the tiny town in the foothills of the Himalayas that His Holiness the Dalai Lama calls home. It’s been close to two years since we left there, after six life-changing weeks volunteering, meeting new people and renewing friendships, and soaking up the healing energy of the town and the monastery where we stayed. Still the place is alive for me, almost as alive as when I was there in person.
My friend, a psychic, told me a few months ago that my lifetime in McLeod Ganj is my most important past life. That’s not a surprise to me. The profound affect the Dharamsala area had on me is very difficult to put into words.
It felt very much like coming home. What I was experiencing was “ineffable – incapable of being described in words; too sacred to be uttered”. Each moment, every experience was filled with richness. When we left Dharamsala for the second half of our India trip we said goodbye to dozens of wonderful Tibetan friends, who sent us off on our journey with khata scarves.
Recently I came across a WordPress blog by ZoeAnn Murphy, of pictures taken by Tibetan refugees from all walks of life. I think you will enjoy these pictures and bios as much as I did. It’s called Unseen Dharamsala and with her permission here is the link.
Excerpts from my new book, currently entitled Wherever You Go, There You Are, will be posted here soon.
I can’t begin to tell you how happy I was the other day, when searching for definitions of middle age, I discovered that the eminent psychologist Erik Erikson categorizes midlife as ages 40 to 65 (the Oxford English Dictionary does too). I, and many others, persist in saying we are in mid life, even though by many societal definitions we’re not; the media and census definitions being a case in point – (35 to 50 is mid age per the U.S. census folks).
Sheila Rogers, a favourite comentator, implies in a CBC Knowledge Network promo that she and others of our age – (60ish) – are in mid life, as I do. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it and now I have support for this line of thought, even an official Erickson definition I can throw around, should anyone be so bold as to suggest otherwise!
I know we’re not supposed to define ourselves according to others’ opinions – but hey – who isn’t influenced by the constant barrage of youthfulness we see every day in the media and on the street?
Our priorities do change as we get older, some things, and even some relationships, just don’t feel important anymore and simply fall away. I like to think that for most of us, the things we really want to do get done at some point and in some fashion. For me, travel has become very important over the past few years. Somehow the money is found and the physical, pyschic and emotional strength is summoned to do it – as is always the case when my spirit is called. A shining example of this is my eventual arrival in India ”07 after a thirty year desire, then the longer trip there in ’09, long enough to volunteer in Dharamsala North India, a transformative experience.
Keeping our bodies healthy becomes a priority for most of us as we get older; eating well, getting some exercise, processing our thoughts and emotions in various ways, perhaps coffee with a friend, talking with our partner, writing, dancing, painting, endless possibilities for creative growth and joy exist.
Although I’ve been saying for quite a while, I don’t have endless energy, but I do pretty much everything I want to do, I’m only recently making the connection I mentioned above – the idea that when spirit calls I rally and go. Many people I know have endless energy for their business projects – whether they be stunning crafts, as my friend Helene, a retired teacher produces, or business coaching and publishing an on-line magazine called Timefinders, like my friend and coach Jill Crossland. This is what they’re called to do, as I am called to travel and to write especially, and to support and coach women and men who are open to change.
So I urge you, don’t let our society’s emphasis on youth hold you back – just do what moves you – be you, undefined by age.
Change is the name of the game for many of us of late. My personal process is eclectic as always, ranging from formal meditation, to the occasional Church visit, to psychic readings from friends (I seem to know quite a few psychics, interestingly).
My intuition is increasing as time goes on, as is yours, I’m sure. I’m working on tuning into it more and following the subtle guidance given to me by my internal self. I do find the key to moving through this chaotic time is to to continually ask myself, “What now, what’s the next step?…today, this year, this very moment.”
I find the occasionaly psychic reading validates what I’m already sensing and planning, and adds ideas to my projects. This week an old friend read for me, and oddly (to both of us), said I was too detached from material things!! She/they reminded me the importance of having a goal, visualizing it, and fleshing it out with as much detail as possible, even including writing a cheque to yourself (I’ve not done that before, but have heard of it).
If I give it the time and space, the answers always come. Sometimes I know I’m meant to do nothing, to simply breathe, to walk by the water, at other times creative inklings come to me, plans for the present and the future. For example, the facebook group I started a few weeks ago, Surviving & Thriving as a Caregiver, has been a joy to me; the response of the women and the interactions available on facebook are fun. In the fall an in-person support group will spin off from this group. Other plans for the fall, after months of quietness and “holding the space”, are volunteer coaching work with people with chronic and persistent mental illness, beginning Indian singing lessons and possible other volunteer projects along with my coaching work.
Everything happens at the right time; we’ve heard that over and over, but that’s a hard one to surrender to. Now after my changes of the past year and a half, in my work and my personal life (death of two people close to our family), I’m ready to move forward in different ways.
I began preparing myself for my mother’s departure a long time ago, even before she came to live in our community so that we could support her. Occasional dreams appeared in which I or we, (my partner and daughter) had to save my Mom; in those dreams she was called “Little Mommy”. Often water would be involved, perhaps she would fall off a dock and we would pull her out of the water. The dreams became even more prophetic before our last trip to India in the fall of 2009 when I dreamed that she disappeared from our bed where she was resting, leaving a pile of garments, only to reappear on a small bed in the same room as a baby, then the baby also disappeared, leaving behind red satin garments. That profound dream reminded me of the expression “dust to dust, ashes to ashes” because she was returning to a younger form of herself.
My mother left us in the early morning hours of April 13th; when she heard I was on my way her face changed, her nurse Ray said, and she went. I believe she then felt safe and comforted enough to let go. It was also clear that energetically I was there with her. Elizabeth Kubler Ross says that whoever is supposed to be there when a person dies is present in the room, even if they are not there physically, and I feel this was very much the case. (Most loved ones seem to die when their family is not in the room, from what friends and nurses at Totem Lodge have told me).
Our Celebration of Glenys’ life, held on a sunny, hot Saturday afternoon in our home, was joyful and uplifting. It was a simple gathering of friends and family, a reading of e-mails from family and colleagues in Toronto, some storytelling by myself and others who were present, followed by a toast to our Mom and a sharing of food. I believe it reflected the joyful, social person she was, for the most part. Everyone enjoyed the afternoon, and the next day I imagined Mom “looking down” (a reflection of my childhood Christian upbringing I suppose), clapping her hands and joyfully telling the family and friends with her, “They’re having a party for me”!
It’s been about two months since Mom left us, and the process goes on. Recently I had two dreams that reflect how I’m integrating her passing into who I am, and into my life. They also represent the circle of life, and the circle of mothers and daughters. When I did a vision board a few weeks ago, (pictures and words on posterboard), I hadn’t planned to, but began it with pictures of my mother and myself, and my daughter and myself, and used phrases such as “full circle” and “strength” and “open arms”.
My first dream, just a dream fragment, had a very young girl, hardly more than a baby, being thrown, more than once, to the curb of a road. For some reason she was not a three dimensional girl, she was rather flat, but in dreams unusual symbols appear. I motioned to my partner to pick up bits of her clothing, and I gently and lovingly picked her up and held her to my heart. This girl was a part of me, a wounded, or perhaps a grieving part, and I reclaimed her into myself as I dreamed. (Remember, although there are many helpful ways to interpret dreams, the final word is our own, we are the expert on our dreams).
The second dream, a bit longer, took place in a care home, but not the one my Mom lived in. The home and the staff seemed rather generic, and were unknown to me, totally unlike the Totem experience. In the dream my mother was dying, but then she turned around and improved, in fact to the point where she could speak again (she hadn’t really spoken for a long time). She was going to be sent to the hospital, but then I got the idea of “taking her home” for her last few days. The home wasn’t my current one, however, it was our family home on Lawrence Avenue in Toronto. I was helping her go home. There’s the full circle again.
During Mom’s last week, we all helped her go home, with our visits, our music, and most importantly, our love. Also, and this will no doubt sound weird to some of you, for several weeks before Mom became ill, I craved a pair of large, white, feathery wings to put on – not to worry, they were only going to be worn around the house! (You need to know that I have been enamoured of huge white wings for many years, ever since I saw the several part movie on television called “Mr. Pim” about a man in a small village in England who began to grow beautiful wings.) Anyway, as soon as Mom became terminally ill, my desire – my need? for wings disappeared. Again, I think it was a symbolic way of me helping her go home.
How the future will unfold as I find my new place in the world, I cannot predict. As I said to my brother last week after we left the lawyer’s, “It’s the end of an era”. He agreed.
