Monday Morning Motivation, July 10, 2023

 

In case no one told you today...

Hello!

Good morning!

You belong here.

You're doing great.

You make a difference just by being you.

Somewhere, someone's life is better because of you!

More Kindness...

I've been feeling disheartened lately spending time on the internet. When I first started this blog back in October 2004, the world was different. It's always changing, I realize that. But is this current change for the better? How will society benefit from all the anger, hostility, contempt, and general negativity I read and see displayed in comments and videos every day? 

As an empath, I feel it affecting me. In response I take steps to avoid exposure to the reels, comments, and endless noise of disatisfaction being pumped out on social media; there are days I honestly believe someone or some group, with power and resources, are creating and backing this trend. It's like the dastardly villain we all know from childhood cartoons and stories is alive with the sole purpose of manipulating society toward their twisted vision of dystopia. I say this trend needs to stop before we all get sucked into a pit of despair with no chance of escape. 

It starts with me. And you. The power of one.

I for one do not want to live in a world without love, compassion, generosity, or kindness. My intention is to follow my heart where it leads with kindness. Starting here. Starting now.

Spreading kindness...everywhere like confetti. Through information. If someone is lacking oxytocin, I know where to find it.

How kindness helps...

😊☑Increases self-esteem: Research has shown that all acts of kindness, no matter how big or small, have a positive influence on your self-esteem. Doing something nice for someone else makes you feel better about yourself!

😀Improves mood: Kindness provides a boost to hormones in your brain that give you feelings of satisfaction and well-being. This phenomenon is called a “helpers high” because the pleasure and reward centers of your brain light up when you do something nice for another person.

⬇Lowers cortisol (stress hormone): Some data indicates that perpetually kind people have lower cortisol levels than the average population. More kindness means less stress!

💓Kindness is contagious…in a good way! The science of kindness continues to support the “Golden Rule” – do unto others as you would have them do unto you. When you receive kindness, you are more likely to express kindness to others. Start with one small act of kindness towards a friend, co-worker, or stranger because you never know how big of an impact you may have.

Kindness as a Treatment for Pain, Depression and Anxiety

According to Dr. Waguih William IsHak, a professor of psychiatry at Cedars-Sinai, “Mindfulness-based therapy is becoming increasingly popular for treating depression, anxiety, and other mental health conditions. The therapy is built on mindfulness meditation, documenting your gratitude, and acts of kindness. People being treated in a mindfulness-based therapy program incorporate acts of kindness into their daily routines.”

Kindness Can Be The Norm

Dropping this off to highlight something positive, packed with so much good stuff. Stuff we need today. Don't be surprised if you get a dose of oxytocin during your visit. And if you don't make it back here, that's ok because they have some excellent resources to enable all of us to make kindness the norm.

Random Acts of Kindness website

You Tube Promo video for RAK

Notes on midwinter

 Imbolc

This steady rise of a new year’s unharnessed energy can quickly become uncontrollable chaos. But oh, the potential!!! Take a close look at that world. Inside potential exists all which is potent – from the Latin word potentia meaning power.

This week we observe the midpoint of winter, known as Imbolc, which follows the winter solstice (Yule) and precedes the spring equinox (Ostara). The annual celebration known as Imbolc lasts from dusk on February 1 until dusk on February 2. The traditional day to commemorate Imbolc is February 1, while some choose to do so on February 5 when the sun will be at its exact astronomical midway of 15 degrees Aquarius, or on the second full moon following the winter solstice, known as the Full Snow Moon. Around the world, many different religions observe this Gaelic holiday in unique ways.

Imbolc is an ancient holiday celebrating the very first stirrings of new life—the earliest breaths of spring. Even though there may still be snow on the ground where you are, though it’s freezing cold outside (as it is here in Idaho) we are beginning to feel the very earliest hints of spring rising in our spirits, and in the ground.

After months of turning inward, of hibernation and rest, life is beginning to stir again.

 

Historically, and even today, Imbolc marks the start of spring and the birth of the first lambs. Spiritually, this is a time of new life coming into manifestation. We may only be seeing the tiniest hints of life above the surface, but things are really beginning to stir in the darkness. Imbolc (pronounced IM-bolg or IM-bolk) is Old Irish for “in the belly.” Also known as Oimelc, Lady Day, and in Christianity, Candlemas or St. Brigid’s Day. Other names include Feast of the Torches, Lupercalia, the Feast of Pan, the Snowdrop Festival, the Feast of Waxing Light, Brighid’s Day and many, many more names. This is a time to welcome the change by lighting white candles.

This time of year correlates with pregnancy and Brigid, the Celtic goddess of fire and fertility, is honored at this time. The seeds of spring are beginning to stir in the belly of mother earth. The term oimelc means ewe’s milk. Around this time of year, many herd animals give birth to their first offspring of the year or are heavily pregnant. As a result, they are producing milk. This creation of life's milk is part of the symbolic hope for spring.

Over time, Brigid was named St. Brigid by Christianity. Irish nuns, babies, midwives, dairy maids, and animals all have Brigid (or Bridget) as their patron saint. St. Brigid's and the goddess Brigid’s origin tales are very similar. Both have ties to milk, fire, the home, and infants.

Through the regenerating force of the Sun, Imbolc serves as a time of purification following the shut-in life of winter. Additionally, it is a celebration of light and fertility that was previously celebrated in Europe with enormous bonfires, torches, and fire in all its forms. Here, fire stands for both light and warmth as well as our own personal inspiration and enlightenment.

Along the lines of purification, Imbolc is a great time for cleansing our spirits, as well as our home. Now is the time to clear out the dirty old clutter, and the things that died within us during winter, to prepare for the exciting new growth to come. My Old Farmer’s Almanac suggests we use this time for garden projects that we will be too busy to attend to later. Build a cold frame or a potting bench. It is a good time to scatter poppy seeds, such as those of Papaver rhoeas, on the snow, as they will germinate come spring.

 For many of us, these last few months of turning inward were all about identifying the things within us that we’re ready to let go of…to release. Those old heavy branches and dead leaves that we’re finally ready to clear away. Imbolc is the time to really let those things go once and for all. With the new year comes the talk of resolutions and goals, whether we act on them or not. The idea of out with the old and in with the new melds agreeably with this time of the year.

So, it’s easy to say Imbolc is a time of transformation and change.

 

Sure, ideally, we talk about personal growth, change, and letting go of those things that no longer serve us with heartfelt anticipation and excitement. But deep down inside it also scares us!  Change is easier said than done.

As creatures of habit, we like things that are familiar and comfortable. But real change requires us to let go of all that. We must set aside what we know and step into a new way of being. And that can be extremely uncomfortable. Somewhere, someone just read this paragraph, uttered “Nope!” and moved on to another website or blog.

 

Imbolc brings us the opportunity to face these challenges. It’s a time of being tested. Just as the seeds and bulbs buried in the darkness of the earth find the strength to form new growth and reach upward, we too have the strength required to make real, lasting change. Can you leave what is safe, comfortable, and familiar in order to grow more fully into yourself? (I believe, yes you can!) 

Maybe these last few months you have been dreaming up new plans and ideas for the year ahead. Dreams immerse you with hope and excitement, lighting the fires of creativity and inspiration within you. Allow this fire to give you the strength to walk through this challenging time of being tested by change.

Just like the groundhog making headlines this time of year, we’re also beginning to poke our heads out from our own inner worlds. This is the time to begin to bring your own inner work, those dreams and changes you’ve been dreaming about, out into the world.

How shall you emerge in the light of a new, young sun?

 

The colors and symbols of Imbolc:

o   White, red or orange candles

o   Sun symbols

o   Snowdrops (first flower of spring) or daffodils

o   A tabletop fountain

o   Something woolen or a sheep figurine

o   Early greens like wild garlic

o   Incense. Musk, frankincense, and myrrh. For boosting energy, try cinnamon, basil and rosemary.

Notes on This Winter Solstice

It is time. This is the Winter Solstice. 

Into darkness we plunge as winter draws itself over us. Soon we reach the apex of a dying year in a single night as it lengthens past all other nights -- the Solstice. In our deepest hush we are given pause to reflect. 

The longest and darkest night is upon us, but remember, the sun is slowly making its way back. This is the spiritual significance of this day known as Winter Solstice, marking the beginning of the celebration of Yule. We eagerly anticipate the days that will be lighter and warmer. 

However, this long night is also an opportunity for a cleansing of the soul, just like the New Moon which occurs this Friday, Dec 23. 

Have you ever dug into the history and significance of the dates that mark the changing seasons? It's quite fascinating and provides a poetic glimpse into history and folklore.

Most of what we know about Winter Solstice and Yule celebrations is rooted in the traditional holiday festivities of various northern European traditions, particularly that of the pre-Christian Germanic peoples. When the days grew colder and the nights grew longer, people of ancient times would light candles and gather round fires to lure back the sun.

Yule is symbolized by twinkling lights, bells, snowflakes, sun wheels, candles, wreath, sun and stars, yule log, pinecone, yule tree, and spinning wheels. Winter Solstice colors also symbolize Yuletide folklore with dark green, orange, red, gold and silver and white...colors we see prominently displayed in everything this time of year. 

The celebration of the Yule holiday is a time to clean your home and purge everything that no longer serves you. Doing so will help prepare for this joyous season as well, by creating a space free from any negative energy or memories which may have accumulated over the past year. 

The most important part about celebrating Christmas in our modern lives is cleaning up before it begins! By taking some hours during December’s lead-up period to deeply cleanse both mind and house, we can set ourselves up with an open heart without all that old mental clutter holding us back. 

Winter Solstice is an opportune time for endings and beginnings, as throughout my life several momentous events occurred on the Winter Solstice. On December 21, 1985, I moved back to Lewiston from Sacramento after spending four years of my life living there. Six years later, on December 21, 1991, it marked the end of my life alone, and the beginning of my relationship with Sam. Winter Solstice is a suitable time for rest, reflection, kindness, healing, goal setting, gratitude, peace, renewal, solitude, slumber and celebrating with family and loved ones. 

In an earth's quiet night, how shall we comfort and renew each other's hearts?

Catching myself

Monday, September 19, 2022, came and like every year before, I let it go; but not before marking it with a few minutes spent in silent vigil remembering you.

Privately.

No post on social media announcing to everyone what Monday meant to me, mainly because very few people within my social media circle ever met you. Most everyone I know today have no idea who you were, so why should I expect them to care when there was never any connection between you and them? But mostly because on the night you left, and in the days that followed, no one reached out to comfort me. No one. From that experience I began to realize the truth in the words you always told me..."Be your own best friend, because the only person you can ever depend on, is yourself."

I always wondered why a mother would tell that to her daughter. Today I know it was because that was your reality, it is what you knew. You knew that people can only love and support others to the extent of the love and support they received in the past. You were trying to protect me from ever knowing the pain you felt. Did it work? Sometimes. But then there are the times I found myself longing for someone to be there, to catch me when I fell. Today I can tell you I have mastered the art of catching myself when I fall; but truth be told, sometimes I wish I had a safe place to land outside of myself.

There are days when I wonder. I wonder what you would think about the world today. I wonder how you would behave on social media. I wonder if you would even be on social media. I wonder if all the advice and wisdom you handed down to me during my formative years of childhood would be any different today if you had experienced more decades of your life. I wonder what your face would look like, gazing upon the face of your grandchild, or great grandchild.

It's been 44 years since you left us. Yet on days like this, it feels like only yesterday.

Of all the things you gave me mom, it is your smile I treasure the most. It is the one thing I vow no one will ever take from me.

Parting thoughts on this day

 

Moments in memories

Went in a different direction with writing this weekend. This moment in my life wouldn't leave me alone.

I've been thinking about writing this for weeks. Another memory hidden deep, prodding me from within. Wanting out, boiling in my mind. I know what to do when words boil in my mind. Only release will ease the pressure of their presence. Never before have I shared this with anyone, until now.

Today (Aptil 19) would have been my uncle Dick’s 81st birthday. I miss the sound of his belly laugh.

The last night my father was alive on this earth, I was there with him. And so was my uncle. I shared that night with these two men…in a room filled with love. A love so great, so profound, with a depth and fierceness that neither time nor human could vanquish.

That night I drifted restlessly, floating somewhere between the threshold of alertness and the vacuity of sleep. Bitterly aware of the slipping of time, the emotional fracture of loss about to snap like a summer twig on a forest floor. Laying on a cot placed at the foot of my father's hospital bed, I spent the hours of that night, listening to my uncle’s soft melodic voice…recounting a million and one memories. A lifetime of recollections. The breath of final goodbyes.

A night I shall carry within the power of my heart forever.

From the time dad was admitted to the hospital two weeks prior, the days passed in a blur. Each day started at 5:00 am so I could be at the hospital by 6:00 am, gathered with family and friends. Around 11, I left the hospital and went to work for several hours. Work was both a needed distraction and a necessity caused by timing. Cancer doesn’t give proper notice to allow family members time to rearrange the priorities in their lives. I’d stay at work three or four hours each day, then drive back to the hospital where I remained until 10 or 11 at night. Several of us took turns spending the night with dad; between my step-mother, sisters, brother and a brother-in-law, someone was always with him. On those nights when it wasn’t my turn to stay, I’d drive home, go to bed for several hours, then get up at 5 the next day and do it all over again.

Looking back now, I don’t know how I did it. But that’s the thing about moments like this in your life when you find yourself someplace you never thought you’d be. Without thinking, without preparation, you shift yourself into drive and do what has to be done. That’s just the way it is.

And so, as it came to be that Saturday night, it was my turn to stay. By all rights, I should have been exhausted that night. But what sleep I had came in short moments of drowsy submission. Stubbornly refusing to give in, I held tight to my consciousness, not wanting to miss a single second of the interchange between these two brothers. It was the most beautiful heartbreaking passage of my life.

When everyone had gone home, I took my place at dad’s bedside, with uncle Dick standing on the other side, holding dad’s hand, and tenderly stroking the top of dad’s head. A brother’s touch. No longer lucid, his eyes dim and hollow, dad laid on this bed, unable to speak or move. I felt weary, numb, and it must have been close to midnight when I decided to lay down and convinced myself to sleep so dad and my uncle could have this time together without me hovering. When I pulled my feet from the floor and finally laid down, I felt a heaviness lifted from my shoulders as I slipped down, under the covers on the cot, slowly lulled by the sound of my uncle’s soft whispers lifting the heavy curtain of silence.

From my place at the foot of the bed, I felt the love pouring from my uncle’s heart into my father’s ear. Words so soft and sweet, they both filled my heart with joy and tore it apart, all at once. Boyhood memories flowing through every slow and tender stroke of my uncle’s fingers, recapturing minutes and hours long since passed, held tight and woven in the time and space of these two brothers. It was like listening to a song without end.

I tried to sleep that night, to give my uncle some private time. Yet every time I felt myself relax and drift off, just as I was about to surrender, the rise and fall of my uncle’s voice pulled me away, like a heartfelt violin concerto. A few times I lifted myself up from the cot just enough to see their two figures. Dick holding dad’s hand in his right, his left hand on dad’s head, sometimes gently caressing, and sometimes just cupped at the back of his head. Leaning over the bed, his lips moving in the rhythmic duty of expressing long lost words of love and family, sharing distant memories of occasions and places, and the faded fragments of time and tribulation.

Laying there, just listening, changed me. It filled me. It broke me. And it mended me.

A brother’s lullaby of love and tenderness. A lifetime captured, contained, and conveyed in a solemn night; two brothers and four walls. At times it was unbearable, and yet in those moments I felt the healing comfort of hope.

Hours passed. I listened. A silent witness to the testimony of one man’s life. At one point I felt a soft human breeze as a nurse walked past me. This was followed by the rustling of blankets as she whispered a good morning to my uncle. My eyes were closed, and it was a moment of semi-consciousness; I felt like I was hanging somewhere between reality and dreams. The rustling stopped abruptly, I heard her say something indiscernible to my uncle. I heard footsteps, then I felt her hand lay gently on my shoulder. I was on my right side, with my back to the bed.

“Dona,” she whispered as she bent over me.

I opened my eyes. “I‘m awake.”

A brief pause, and then, “It’s time. His kidneys shut down. You need to get everyone here…now.”

Without thinking, I nodded and sat up, just as her hand left my shoulder. It was still dark outside. I glanced at my watch. A few minutes after 5. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, set my feet on the floor and stood up.

It was time to meet this day. All the fragments of time shared between my father and uncle laid heavy in the November morning air. Shaking off the burden of our own lost time, I excused myself, stepped out of the room and walked down the short hall into the waiting room next door to make the calls to summon my family.

Minutes ticked by as I readied myself. By the time I changed out of my sleepwear into my day clothes, folded the sheets and blankets on the cot and placed it out of the way, my sisters and step-mother arrived. Somewhere in the commotion I caught a glimpse of my uncle walking toward the door to leave. I asked if he would stay. With his hand on the door, he looked up at me from across the room and slowly shook his head. Before he turned away, I looked into his eyes and felt the clouds of pain and sorrow bearing the weight of a lifetime on his heart. There was a moment between us, a brief connection of understanding, and then he stepped out into the hall.

With that I released a deep, heavy sigh. I understood. Last night carried it’s own burden, and my uncle needed to lay it down. Someplace other than here, in this room, right here, right now. I took a deep breath, and walked to my father’s bedside, taking my place among the group of four women who would help dad through his final hours of life.

Shortly after 11 that morning, dad released his final breath.