Category: Just Because

Even When There’s Nothing to be Grateful for…There’s Something to be Grateful for

(Title image: Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash)

With the Thanksgiving holiday coming up in the United States this week, I wanted to offer you a funny little story to think about when you feel there’s little to be grateful for.

Although I work from home a lot these days, I had gone in to the office a few days ago to get some things done onsite. It was a hectic day and I ended up leaving later than I expect, and as I walked to the busstop, I was carrying more items than usual, including an umbrella for the sun, a large zippered bag for my water bottle and food I hadn’t had time to eat and held my cell phone connected to a charger in one hand. I was loaded up!

Luckily my purse is backpack-style so I didn’t need to carry it in my hands. And my office keys were on my ID badge, which hung around my neck.

All packed up and ready to go, right?
(Photo by Alexandra Tran on Unsplash)

On the way to the bus, I was preoccupied with things that I still needed to do and concerns about issues at home.

The bus arrived, I got on and put my belongings on the floor at my feet, burying myself in a game on my phone.

NOTHING seemed out of the ordinary, save for someone who sat down beside me and seemed to press against me a bit. But, hey, it’s the bus and there were a lot of people on so it isn’t a completely comfortable ride. That’s okay.

Besides, the guy moved to another seat as people got off on their stops.

By the time we got to my stop, I prepared to get off by collecting my items. And my heart missed a beat: my purse was not there.

I did a double-take. I looked all around my seat. Nope, no purse.

My head started to swim because it seemed obvious that someone had taken it. I rushed over to the driver and told him that I thought my purse had been stolen. He listen to my story, called the dispatch and marked the security video, explaining that I should fill out a police report and let them know the time and bus number…

My mind was a blur as I tried to remember everything that I had in my purse.
(Photo by Nick Noel on Unsplash)

I dutifully wrote down his instructions but I was already thinking of the hours of work that getting my cards cancelled, obtaining a new drivers license, getting new car, apartment and mailbox keys, and everything else would require.

“And now THIS on top of everything else!” I thought to myself as I got off the bus and walked home, feeling dejected and spent.

Before calling the police department I decided to call my co-worker to check my office in case I’d somehow left my purse there.

But I knew that was hopeless. There is no way that I would have walked out of the office without putting on my backpack purse, no way that I would have not felt it on my back as I stood waiting for the bus and absolutely no way that I would not have noticed that it wasn’t there when I put all my belongings by my feet on the bus.

I was wrong.

My co-worker told me that it was on the floor under my desk.

Behold the power of mindlessness! I have no idea how I could have missed all those cues that alert me to presence or absence of my purse, especially when it’s the most important item that I carry. But I did.

Gratitude hides out in the unlikeliest of places.
(Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash)

However, that’s not the point of this post. The point of this post is, suddenly I did not need to call the police department, cancel my credit and debit cards, stand in line to get a new driver’s license, sit and recall everything that I had in my purse and wallet and anything else that I would have spent hours doing.

And I felt a tidal wave of gratitude wash over me, one that would have not experienced if I hadn’t spent the last 20 minutes convinced that someone had stolen one of my most important belongings.

That gratitude came out of nowhere. And it made me think.

If I could muster such a powerful feeling of thankfulness when I realized that something bad that I was sure happened actually hadn’t happened, maybe I could find a way to generate that same feeling without needing to experience the sense of doom beforehand?

In other words, I can be thankful for all the bad things that don’t happen even if there aren’t great things going on at the time.

So this Thanksgiving, my wish for you is to be able to experience sincere gratitude without having to lose your wallet and then find it.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Just Because It’s Summer: Flowers [PHOTOS]

Earth laughs in flowers.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

As we slog through extremely high temperatures in many parts of the world, I remind myself of how fortunate I am to be living in a relatively temperate area of the United States that somehow manages to evade the weather extremes faced by other parts of the country.

In this post, I’m celebrating the more pleasant parts of summer, namely the beautiful flowers that proliferate during this time of the year. My camera is an aging iPhone with limited features so my point is simply to showcase the abundance of colorful plantlife that is growing within a relatively small area around the complex where I life, rather than produce art-like photos.

Likewise, the flowers may be “lacking”, perhaps with browning edges or dirty petals or anything else that doesn’t look picture-perfect. But they are very real and a good reminder that there is so much that doesn’t look like it comes from the pages of a glossy magazine, and yet is still worthy of a mindful gaze.

There was a time when I could have rattled off the names of all of these, but while some are still familiar, others I cannot recall. So I’m posting them simply to appreciate for their form. I hope you enjoy!

There is a glossy-leafed magnolia tree blooming outside our window with dinner plate-sized flowers. Its petals are so white that they were blinding my camera and my husband and I had to wrestle the flower into an position where its brightness wouldn’t overwhelm the iPhone.
A rose is a rose is a rose…even when it’s a little rough around the edges.
This plant looks very geranium-like to me but I’m not sure whether it actually is one. Anyone know? The flowers remind me of the peticoatted skirts of dancers kicking up their heels. Bug included at no extra cost.
I know what this flower is and I’m going to remember the name right after I submit this post! I love this image for the fluffy stamens and teeny water drops…and the gracefulness of the blossom.
Another flower whose name escapes me. This looks like a circle of red-dressed ladies holding hands and facing outwards.
I love succulents for their beautiful leaf patterns, very fractal-like and interesting, even when dusted in dirt. Echeveria species, I presume.
Another stunning succulent, a bit chewed up but beautiful in my eyes. Again Echeveria, I expect.
A succulent preparing to flower. Tightly packed buds that look ready to bust open.
Last but not least, a hibiscus. This is one of my favorite flowers — I assure you the photo does not do the colors justice. Unfortunately, this year my plant has been beset by various pests but is producing gorgeous flowers nonetheless.

15 Seconds of Zen in a Teaglass [Video Clip]

I’m neck-deep in juggling my day job and studying for my Yoga Teacher Training final exam, so I’m going to keep this short and tell you about a daily practice that I’ve established, as suggested by one of our teacher trainers.

We were to choose one thing to do consistently, something that was just for us and our well-being. And it was something that we should commit to doing everyday.

I chose making myself a tall glassful of hibiscus tea as my daily practice. As it is, I love tea because the process of making it requires that I pay attention to what I’m doing. While we set up morning (decaf) coffee the night before and the coffee maker is on a timer to brew, tea requires my presence.

Between waiting for the water to boil in the tea kettle, placing the hibiscus petals into the infuser, inserting that into the teaglass, pouring the hot water over it…the process becomes mindfulness meditation. And the best part is the visual reward of watching the vivid colors of the red hibiscus flowers seep through the infuser and into the glass, beautiful swirls of vibrant pink that, even if just for a handful of seconds, fill me with a sense of peace and spaciousness.

Feeling my spirit refreshed, I take a deep breath and return to my day.

Actually, it’s 16 seconds…but 15 sounds like a nicer, rounder number. Sorry about the knocking in the background. Once life calms down I’ll post a better version of this clip.

Sleep Peacefully, Sweet Aira

“[A pet is] a little tuft of consciousness that circles around a person like a moon around a planet, and completes their energy field making them more whole.”

Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen quoting a spiritual teacher, as related by Dr. Nancy Novak on the Nancy’s List email newsletter, November 1, 2020.

There are few reminders of impermanence as poignant as life transitions. I experienced this over the weekend as we said goodbye to our beautiful Siberian husky, Aira. I knew the time was coming and that it was right to let her go, just a month shy of her 15th birthday.

Retirement: living the good life in her “golden years”, in her own room. Lots of naps and loads of love.

Aira’s transition was gentle. My mother held and stroked her as she lay on her favorite rug in her bedroom in my parents house. She fell asleep quietly with the first injection, and after the I.V. drug was administered, passed into peace, surrounded by the people she knew and loved in familiar surroundings.

She now lies beneath the window outside her room, one of her favorite places in the yard to sit during the winter, as it was almost guaranteed to have a snow mound. She loved that. As the days became warmer, that mound was one of the last to melt.

In her younger days, bright with husky energy.

I remember the silkiness of the fur on the backs of her ears. And the unbridled joy she exhibited when she would get loose and start tearing around the neighborhood. And how she would roll around in freshly fallen snow in ecstasy. And how wonderful she smelled after rooting around in a rosemary bush. And how we would find a dog treat hidden in a shoe, under a pillow or anywhere else she thought was a safe spot that she could return to later for a snack.

Everything changes. Aira matured and calmed down. She followed us from Chicago to California, then due to stifling housing constraints in the Golden State, was welcomed by my parents in Connecticut, where she got a beautiful yard, lots of snow and unbelievable amounts of attention. Years after their three kids had left, my parents and Aira formed their own little family unit and went almost everywhere together.

My father’s health faltered and Aira, too, started showing her age. The last year brought on the most striking changes. Aira sprouted a fast-growing mast cell tumor on her shoulder. By the time it was removed, the mass weighed almost five pounds, and her prognosis was guarded. That was in April of this year.

Some weeks ago, my mother noticed a hard spot in Aira’s belly. As with the previous tumor, this one grew lightning fast. And unlike the tumor on her shoulder, this one was among her organs and taking a toll on her. This one was not coming out.

I would lie away at night, wondering how this would end. Had I known how blissfully she would transition out of this world, my heart would not have felt so heavy.

Newly arrived at my parents home in New England, looking forward to the cooler air and, after years of California warmth, SNOW.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am Roman Catholic. When I was young, I remember a humble missionary priest speaking of how anyone could baptize someone with the sign of the cross and holy water. So, logically, I pilfered some holy water that my grandmother kept on a shelf and baptized our dog at the time, a good-natured chihuahua named Rudis.

Several decades later, when Aira was part of our family, I was already an adult (so I have no excuses), and as I was holding a small vial of holy water brought back from mass, Aira came to sniff at it. I thought, “Why not?” and baptized her.

I’m sure that I’ll be punished for this brazen transgression. And you know what? That’s okay. I hope that I’m banished to the place where animals go after they die, because I’d rather give up my spot in Heaven to spend eternity with my dogs.

Floating Above It: A Visualization

Sometimes, you really need to get away.

I’ve written about pulling back to get perspective, but this isn’t about that. There are times that you can’t handle looking at a situation, and even less getting close and curious about it. Once in a while, you need to cut your losses and allow yourself to check out for a bit.

From time to time, I have dreams in which I’m fighting an adversary (like a monster), and I leap up into the air and float over the baddie’s head. Not all the way up into the sky, but just-just-just out of reach of their clawing hands, where I’m safe.

That’s what it feels like to release my hold on the earth and allow myself to imagine floating upwards. It is a freeing and positive feeling, often helped by music containing binaural beats and a gentle relaxing drone, as if I were being softly cradled and rocked by the sounds.

Be a bird, just for a little while.

And then I travel. In my mind, the most pleasant view is that over the water, as if a camera had been set free to follow a broad river, meandering along its twists and turns. Or head across the sea towards the shimmering horizon, as the sun descends to kiss the earth in the late afternoon.

Or letting go of gravity and rising upwards into bright, puffy clouds, so far up that the landscape below blurs into purples and blues as you float high above.

This is not about being present and grounded. There will be other opportunities to sit with difficult emotions and create space for them. This is about being able to give yourself what you need during the more difficult times and escape for a short while, breathing into the spaciousness of being somewhere else.

Take a deep breath and enjoy your flight.

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While it is true that avoiding difficult emotions is not a recommended practice, consider this your glass of wine. Just for today, just to catch your breath.

Please, Wear the Mask

This post is not about politics. It’s about compassion.

Wear the mask.

I have an 18-year-old daughter who works at a local bakery-cafe. While most of her hours were cut, she’s started to get calls to come in again. She’s there to take your order for chicken soup and salad and fresh-baked baguette. She also wears a mask and gloves, for your safety. As her mom, I’d appreciate it if you wore a mask for hers.

She’s not to blame for what’s going on. She didn’t create the virus nor does she have any control over how long the country will be closed down. She’s also not getting hazard pay, nor does she get an allowance. She earns all the money she has. Her job was to pay for fencing lessons, which she has had to stop, but now she’s saving up for college expenses.

My daughter is there to serve you. If you come in without a mask because you feel it’s your right not to wear one, she’s not going to toss you out the door. She’ll give you your food. You risk giving her a virus.

And by extension, giving the virus to the rest of us in her family.

Just wear the mask.

We do this for your family, too.

For a few minutes, when you’re in the cafe, wear the mask. It’s not a political statement. It’s a statement of caring and compassion and understanding that we are all inextricably linked to each other. What is good for one of us is good for all.

And I mean, for all of us down here on the ground level. We’re not the movers and shakers, we’re simply the doers and the survivors. We’re not the millionaires who quarantine in luxurious surroundings and get to break the rules with indemnity. We’re your neighbors who share your concerns.

You’re angry? You have the right to be. But you have no right to take it out on my child.

So please, wear the mask. Compassion looks good on you.

Starting 2020 with Compassion: A Valentine for Maj. Bill White

Given that there’s a lot of divisiveness and polarization in the United States right now, I’m looking for the humanity in my country. Most of the time I feel rather ineffectual, and I have wanted to make small difference in the life of a stranger.

My opportunity came in the form of a news story (mine, Time online, but this has been posted by a wide variety of sources): Maj. Bill White is a 104-year-old veteran of the Battle of Iwo Jima who spends much of his time scrapbooking. He mentioned to the interviewer that he’d enjoy getting Valentine’s Day cards, which he promises to keep on his bookshelves, the same ones where his Purple Heart sits.

Now, while I’m decidedly not a fan of war and wish that we lived in a world where the military was not necessary, I have respect for people who are willing to give of themselves, no matter what the venue. But what moved me the most was the spark that this elderly man had. When he sang the Marines’ Hymn (see video), his voice was clear and unwavering. He still had so much life in him at age 104.

And his secret for living so long? “Just keep breathing.”

Indeed.

I will be sending him a Valentine’s Day card. If you would like to do the same, here’s the address:

Operation Valentine
ATTN: Hold for Maj Bill White, USMC (Ret)
The Oaks at Inglewood
6725 Inglewood Ave.
Stockton, CA 95207

And if not to Maj. White, perhaps there’s another deserving individual whom you could surprise this Valentine’s Day with a cheery greeting? I encourage you to do so. There’s still enough time.

And just keep breathing.

Starting 2020 with Compassion: Random Acts

On this Martin Luther King, Jr. Day in the United States, I thought it would be appropriate to highlight the idea of service to others. The possibilities are endless, as are the rewards.

The need is great all over the world so it’s not difficult to find a place to begin. Having said that, I’d like to bring “Random Acts” to your attention.

Random Acts is a non-profit started by actor Misha Collins (of “Supernatural” fame) and it operates as a clearing house of goodness. The organization raises funds and then distributes money to a broad range of causes. What sets this organization apart from others is that it enables individuals to apply for small (>US$500) grants that can be used to support a kind act, perhaps too small to attract the interest of major charities. (Larger Random Acts are also a possibility.)

Engage in random acts of kindness, no matter how small. Even if no one is looking.

I really like this idea, because kindness doesn’t have to be large-scale to make a meaningful difference in someone else’s life. We often overlook the “little things” that we can do in favor of making a huge impact. And that usually means that many of us will do nothing because, we tell ourselves, one person will not make a significant change.

Kindness doesn’t have to attract news cameras or go viral on the Internet in order to be a beautiful act of charity.

Starting 2020 with Compassion: The Dogs of Chernobyl

(Featured Image Photo: Jorge Franganillo from Barcelona, Spain [CC BY (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)] – cropped image)

My kids and I got hit with the flu right New Year’s Day, which meant mandatory rest and time to browse the Internet. After randomly clicking through websites, I landed on a story about the stray dogs of Chernobyl.

This touched me deeply because I hadn’t realized that animals were abandoned during the nuclear disaster in Chernobyl, Ukraine in 1986. When people evacuated the area, they were told to leave their pets, that they’d be able to soon return. Obviously, that didn’t happen, so animals that had been used to being fed, watered and otherwise cared for were suddenly left alone. To make matters worse, the Soviet government sent soldiers into the disaster area to kill the homeless animals in an effort to contain the radioactive contamination.

Amazingly, some dogs and other pets survived in the exclusion area, even through harsh winters, lack of food, threat of predation and possibility of rabies. Given that it’s been over 30 years since the accident, the current “dogs of Chernobyl” are several generations away from the original dogs, but their circumstances are still dire.

As I’ve gotten older, gone through cancer treatment and now menopause, I find that stories like cause me to disintegrate into a mushy mess. It breaks my heart that these animals were serving as companions to humans, and then were left to suffer from a human-made disaster when it was deemed too dangerous for the humans to stay there. These cruel twists of fate seem too much.

However, this post is not about agony or anger against humans, it’s about hope and compassion. A charitable group called Clean Futures Fund was established, as their mission statements reads, “to raise awareness and provide international support for communities affected by industrial accidents and long-term remedial activities”. Among other projects, they sponsor the ogs of Chernobyl effort: veterinarians and other experienced personnel who care for the descendants of abandoned pets by spaying, neutering, vaccinating, providing first aid and whatever else needs to be done to keep the animals as healthy as possible.

The Clean Futures Fund provides people an opportunity to virtually adopt the dogs and cats of Chernobyl, thereby using those funds to support their rescue program. But there’s also a sense of satisfaction to be found in simply supporting them through their GoFundMe page.

And the best news is, after years of people being told that all the animals were radioactive and therefore unadoptable, that presumption has been shown to be a myth. How? Because the radiation found on the animals can be washed off – it comes from the environment, not from the animals themselves. Finally, puppies are being removed from the exclusion area and sent to loving homes.

There are many more animals still left, but there are also many dedicated and courageous volunteers who are determined to make sure that these furries are not forgotten. While this story isn’t over yet, it promises a happy ending.