The following is what I wrote Tuesday morning, December 20, while still at the hospital with him:

They’ve taken him away. He was sleeping as I held his hand, kissed his forehead and said, “I love you” before the hospital bed was rolled out into the long hall, heading to wherever procedures are done.

We have all been reassured that the bone marrow biopsy my father-in-law is about to have is much improved since the days my sister-in-law had hers, 26 years previously. She had Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, and thanks to early detection and treatment, received a clean bill of health and is with us today.

My 85-year-old father-in-law apparently doesn’t have the urinary tract infection first suspected when the family brought him, weak and tired, to ER three days earlier. According to initial tests, we’re looking at a leukemia diagnosis; the bone marrow biopsy will let us know.

This funny curmudgeon of a man lost his partner of 62 years to Alzheimer’s less than a year ago. Though he is in a lovely retirement center, her loss left a hole in his heart that even the nicest of facilities could not comfort. Lacking caregiving skills, he was at a loss even before she died as he watched her fade. He was famous for saying “we’re fine” when neither he nor she was even close to being okay. He wanted so badly for her to get better.

This morning while Dad was gone for the procedure, a hospital volunteer came by. This attractive retired woman had stopped by unannounced with a newspaper for me. “You have a little glitter on your face,” she said and gently removed it. I laughed as I explained it must have come from the sparkly Christmas boxes sitting next to my makeup mirror. I thanked her and said, “I don’t know. Maybe we all could use more glitter about now,” and started to tear up unexpectedly. “It doesn’t look good for him, my father-in-law.” She stayed with me a while and listened.

After Dad was brought back to the room, Kay, the kind volunteer, stopped by to check on us and said, “I have a present for you.” She gave me a wrapped heart-shaped ornament the size and thickness of the palm of my hand. It smelleth wonderful, filled with a deep woods fresh pine scent, like my house at Christmas time when I was a child.

Dad is still sleeping and I am writing, and praying inadequate prayers. Comfort and joy. I pray for comfort and joy for him and his family.

Holding my new ornament in my lap as I type, the scented gift fills my head with memories of my mother and those long-ago Christmases. Kay the volunteer is now gone as I remove the sparkly wide red ribbon on the package and unwrap it to get a better look at my unexpected treasure.

Glitter. The entire heart is covered with silver glitter.

She brought me a glittered heart that sparkles. I cry.

I reach for Dad’s hand and place the heart in it. He continues to sleep as he has for the last three days but I watch as his big hand tightens around the comfort and joy that an angel named Kay brought us.

I’m thinking it would be a good idea for all of us to glitter our hearts and share them over the holidays and in the days ahead. If you do, I bet you’ll experience that same comfort and joy. After all, we could all use a little glitter right now…

If you’re in the Austin area, come share your heart at our January 2012 Re-Story Circle. I promise you you’ll leave with more comfort and joy than when you arrived.

Click on the “Re-Story Circles” tab for more information.

I’m investigating being quiet, sort of a settling down, settling in. But the noise(s) just won’t quit, so I’m sitting with it. I can’t blame my surroundings. We’re away for the holidays in beautiful San Diego staying with friends and there is much for which to be grateful.

But now I am full. Full of TV. Full of movies. Full of thinking and thoughts. Full of others issues. Full of fears of the future. Full of too much good food and holiday “cheer” and full of death. In the last several days, four people I know or knew of have died. I feel heavy. Not sad, just heavy. It feels like a weighty anchor.

In the midst of this, I also began an excellent weekly soul exploration telecourse, “The Lotus and the Lily” led by Janet Conner. I set a personal intention for the course “…to stop striving, to meet my life as it is and to see life as it is.” And I’m sitting with that, too. I seem to be sitting a lot these last several days. I haven’t taken my morning walk in about two weeks, due to an inexplicable and unexpected sore ankle. I’m cranky about that, which I guess I’ll have to add to the “sit-with-it” list.

The heaviness I feel in my body is, in my humble opinion, its way of trying to get my attention. It’s gently asking me to be still. I asked for it and by golly, the answer is coming through, oddly enough, loud and clear. It is time to sit in stillness.

So I do have an anchor. The heaviness isn’t the anchor; the stillness is. It offers me stability, an anchor in the sense that I can be supported and grounded as I learn to sit. Instead of striving, I am sitting with the thought that I lack nothing right now, just as I am. I don’t even have to strive to do a better job of sitting.

I’m sort of sitting with sitting with, you might say. Did you follow that?

In this season of preparation, I invite you to settle down and settle in, even if it’s just for one evening. There is a time for stillness.

If you’re in the Austin area, come sit in our December Re-Story Circle. No one is an outsider. We’ll not be striving to be a different or better person. You’ll be glad to know no proof of worthiness is required. It’s a come-as-you-are party. Let the stillness be your anchor for one evening. You might just meet your Self in the quiet…

Click on the “Re-Story Circles” tab for more information.

What I do know is that I will have taken a weekend to be with other like-minded women who made a choice to: get away, relax, rest, write, share their stories, have some fun and most importantly, listen to themselves. We will have spent time together in Circle, participating in both deep conversation and laughter, sharing in both listening and being heard. We will also have taken time to listen to ourselves.

Terri St. Cloud (www.bonesigharts.com) eloquently speaks to this in her poem “under the trees”…

“it had been a lifetime for others –
and now she wanted to know herself.
sitting under the trees,
she asked herself how she was feeling
and she began to really listen.”

Time to listen, time to focus, can be a rare commodity these days. As UT journalism professor Tracy Dahlby puts it, “If you’re like me, you’re having a harder time watching a three-minute news video these days without caving into the urge to check your email or text messages at least once. Sustainable focus in steep decline…”

He goes on to say, “Brain researchers suggest we may be jeopardizing the deeper songs of ourselves because when we process more data at faster speeds, our slower, more methodical neural pathways lose out.” (The Human Need for Storytelling in a Digital Age) http://www.statesman.com/opinion/insight/ut-professor-on-the-human-need-for-storytelling-1890165.html

I want to be in touch with the deeper songs of myself and that’s no easy task. The question Dahlby raises is how can we “balance out the excitement that social media’s electric connections bring with the deeper human currents that our storytelling traditions foster?”

He suggests why not “…revive our ancient habit of telling stories face to face in a circle of kindred spirits.”

I wholeheartedly agree.

So join us for a November Re-Story Circle – see the Re-Story Circles tab for information and to register. One simple evening, to take time to be in meaningful dialogue with yourself and with others. You might just get in touch with those deeper songs in yourself you’ve been longing to sing.

I am here on Whidbey Island.

Sniffing is essential.

Whidbey Island, off the coast of Seattle in the Pacific Northwest, and it feels like home.

I thought I was leaving Texas, coming here for four weeks to house-sit and dog-sit. Within 48 hours I knew better. What has really happened is this. Two magical writers, who are off teaching in Europe, have entrusted me with their magical home and magical dog, right here on this magical island. Magical dog, aka Gracie, a two-year-old Corgi, takes me on a walk at least twice a day. Here’s a recap of a recent afternoon walk:

“You sure want to stop and start a lot, Gracie. We need to talk about that.”

We don’t need to talk. You need to listen.

“Wait – stop and start. That’s exactly how I’m feeling about my writing today. I got off to a slow but steady start and now today, I stopped. I don’t like the start-stop-start-stop approach to writing. So what are you trying to tell me? Stopping and starting could be a good thing?”

She’s getting it, albeit slowly.
Maybe you should take a look at what makes you stop.

“Walking this way makes me wonder why I stop. I don’t even have to ask the question twice. I don’t know how to rewrite that shi**y first draft about me as a teenager. I guess I’m just afraid I won’t get it right. I guess when I stop writing, I should stop and pay attention to what’s going on inside myself.”

Duh.

“So why are you stopping here? Oh, the salal berry bush. You love them, don’t you? I guess it’s a good idea to stop if what you’re stopping for nourishes you. Here are some larger ones from the top. I’ll get them for you. We can all use a little help.”

Her brilliance is astounding, at least in her mind.

“Sometimes you like to speed up, and other times you come to a screeching halt. What’s up with that?”

It breaks up the pace, makes it more interesting, plus sometimes I know what’s ahead, but sometimes I don’t so I may be a little more cautious. Also, when I slow down, I notice more.

“Look, there’s a lot for sale. I didn’t notice that yesterday when we were out. Let’s go get a flyer.”

I rest my case.

“You sure sniff a lot before you do your business, but I am impressed with your ability to know when to stop and take care of yourself. Must be an intuitive thing. Pretty cool to be a dog, huh?”

You should be so lucky. You could try listening to your body more.

“Gotta admit, Gracie, I was getting worried about my back pain and wondering about being able to walk. But today, I just realized it’s feeling pretty good. I think these walks are helping, not making it worse.”

She is teachable.

“Okay, we’re getting ready to walk alongside the highway. Okay, sit. Ready to heel? Let’s go.”

She loves this part. She thinks she’s in control.

“Good job. Good girl, Gracie. Here’s your cookie. You’re doing great with the heel command.”

I get the cookie. She gets to feel in charge. Who’s the winner here?

“Let’s keep walking. We want to get past Lucy Goosey’s house. I’m not big on wacko dogs. A trot would be good here.”

I taught her that yesterday.

“Okay, good job, girl. Wanna rest a minute?”

Every now and then it just feels good to stop and take a break. I have some of my best thoughts when I rest.

“You know, a great idea just hit me.”

Imagine that.

“I should write a blog about you. We could call you Wonderdog.”

Really.

“Whoa, you picked up speed. Anxious to get home and eat?”

Nope, just leading the way. You need to write. When a good idea hits, get after it.

***************************

And the lessons continue. Join us for the October Re-Story Circles – see the Re-Story Circles tab for information and to register.

I was filled with SHENPA.

Shenpa, a Tibetan word, can be translated as the stickiness, the urge to be distracted, the hook that takes us away from the present moment. It’s those sticky thoughts. The stickier the thought, the greater the hook.

My friend Ginny Agnew gave an excellent, not to mention vulnerably witty presentation at Seton Cove last week on shenpa and the work of shenpa-expert Pema Chödrön, an American Buddhist nun.

Here’s a darn fine quote from Pema Chödrön (spellcheck wants me to change her last name to Chowder…)

“It is the nature of the mind to have thoughts just as it is the nature of the sky to have clouds. The thoughts aren’t the problem; it’s the sticky quality – the fact that the thoughts have hooked you.”

Suffice to say my thoughts have been pretty sticky as of late. It’s as if my mind decided to go fishing today, cast out the line and I took the bait – I got hooked.

Here’s truth-telling.

Someone, hypothetically my husband, doesn’t respond when, from another room in the house, I yell an expletive because I’ve just hurt my hand. In the moment of “no-response-from-said-husband” something in me tightens (that’s the shenpa) and I start to spiral into getting angry at him for not caring about me. I snipe at him as I walk into the bedroom. He is huffing and puffing doing pushups, looks up at me in disbelief, catches his breath and says, “I didn’t realize you’d hurt yourself.”

Oh. It was all in my head – an all-about-me-nobody-loves-me story.

He gets up, grins, hugs me and says, “Are you alright?” Then he plants a smooch on my forehead.

Well don’t I feel goofy.

Note to Self: Next time the sticky thought comes (and it will), give yourself a little space by taking three full deep breaths to stay in the present moment rather than getting hooked by the sticky thought. Then reach for a nonjudgmental response.

Another fine opportunity to re-story my behavior.

Had any sticky thoughts lately? Wanna practice breathing with me?

For those of you in the Austin area, here’s a breathing opportunity to participate in an upcoming “Re-Story Circle.” This month’s topic is (you guessed it) “Hook, Line or Sinker – Which One Are You?”

If it hooks you, I hope you come…

Http://www.jeanneguy.com/re-story-circles/

To one and all, stay tuned for future thoughts on re-storying your life.

Ciao,

Jeanne
The Great Self-Proclaimed Re-Story Expert

P.S. If you don’t know about Pema Chödrön, google her or check out her lectures on YouTube.  The wisdom will make thy head spin.

“Eventually I realized that my assets are the foundation upon which my new, healthier life is being built. Refusing to recognize them just holds down my self-esteem. As long as I see myself as pitiful, hopeless, and sick, I don’t have to change.”

Right. Easy for them to say. My self-esteem took a hit yesterday when I sent out a message to a large oodle of my friends with a bad link to my website.

But you know what happened? I felt loved-back-on-my-feet by your responses. Not only did you patiently inform me of the mistake, many of you found your way to the site and signed up for the Re-Story Circles anyhow. Vulnerability allows for a loving connection. Ain’t it great…

For those of you troubled by my ineptness but really wanting to come to one of the Circles, here’s the link – the real one, the one that works: http://www.jeanneguy.com/re-story-circles/

One last note. Courage to Change charged me with the following for today:

“Today I will acknowledge that I have many positive qualities, and I will share one or two of these with a friend.”

Positive quality #1: I have the ability to laugh at myself when inept.
Positive quality #2: I’m laughing a lot these days.

Laugh a lot today. It feels good. It’ll help re-story your life.

Ciao,

Jeanne
The Self-Proclaimed Re-Story Expert

She knew I’d been trying to corral time for a book I’m working on. I replied:

At first, my plans for the afternoon said I can’t possibly go.
Then I remembered my plans for my life.
I’ll be there.

I love it when the Universe provides opportunities for my life’s plan.
My job (should I choose to accept it) is to pay attention when the call comes in.

Whose plans are you listening to?

For those of you in the Austin area, here’s an opportunity for an upcoming “Re-Story Circle.” If it calls to you, I hope you’re listening…

http://www.jeanneguy.com/re-story-circles/

To one and all, stay tuned for future thoughts on re-storying your life.

Ciao,

Jeanne
The Great Self-Proclaimed Re-Story Expert

You can’t cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water.

– Rabindranath Tagore

If you read my recent blog post on kedging, I have a bit of advice to throw out (along with that kedge).

Here’s the advice: kedge responsibly.

My new and most excellent chiropractor/kinesiologist, Jeff, is taking my health to heart (every pun intended) – my whole health. Due to a minor blood pressure issue requiring some temporary conventional meds from a cardiologist, I sought alternative whole body health advice. Jeff was recommended to me by a trusted (and very healthy) friend.

Whole body health. What a concept. And Jeff is doing my body good.

He is thrilled that I’m a power walker (my exercise drug of choice), but quickly picked up on my type A personality. As I improve under his care, he’s asked me not to get into that “cocky zone” (a technical term) of over-exerting myself.

If you’ve been under the weather (which is a strange expression in and of itself) or have a health issue (like moi), don’t go throwing that kedge out ahead of you as if you’d just won a body building contest.

So Jeff’s guideline for me: walk until I’m exhilarated, not exhausted.

And he’s right. I want to work with my body, not do it in by thinking I can force wellness. Really, would I do that? Me?

Seems the same is true in all other aspects of my life. I can try to force this business of living or I can get into a healthy rhythm. In order to “re-story” my life, as a daily practice I can throw my kedge out ahead of me little by little. I can move my life forward slowly and gain strength. That way, I don’t get swept away by everyday currents – email, social media, writing, editing, finances, deadlines, commitments, family, kitty litter – you get the picture.

Life is one boat trip I don’t want to miss.

So how’s that kedging coming?

Want to change your life? Try kedging (yes, kedging!)

It’s not easy trying to figure out our lives, and many of us tend to go on autopilot and hope for the best. We get stuck…and stay stuck.

New means and measures are often needed to get unstuck. Like what?

Kedging.

Kedging?

Yes, kedging. A sailing term explained in the following excerpt from Lodge and Crowley’s entertaining book on health, Younger Next Year for Women:

“Here’s an introduction to the mystery of kedging. It goes like this. The captain of a becalmed and threatened vessel has a light anchor (called a kedge) loaded into a longboat and rowed half a mile or so away. The longboat crew pops the anchor over the side, makes sure it’s “set” on the bottom, and then everyone back on the big boat pulls like demons on the line, literally hauling the ship to the anchor. Then they do the whole business again, until they get where they want to go.

“So…kedging: climbing out of the ordinary, setting a [much needed] goal and working like crazy to get there. To save yourself.”

Chris goes on to say (about obtaining good health), “Sometimes in life you’re going to need some tricks. You’re going to need a damn good kedge.”

And if you are wanting to change your life, ready to get outside of your ordinary routine and allow yourself to go in a direction you didn’t believe possible, then I have just the kedge for you: A Jeanne Guy Workshop, where you will learn you have tools at your disposal that you’re not aware of. Just as the captain realized he could use an anchor to move the ship rather than stay stuck, you can move your life forward, too!

Explore and improve your life through the power of journal writing and small group deep conversation known as “Circles.” My philosophy is “if you want a better life, it’s time to write a better story.” And these workshops offer the support, structure, encouragement and empowerment needed to explore your personal story, examine your creative options and ultimately re-story your life.

So throw your anchor, your kedge, your dream out ahead of you and pull yourself toward it. You can get unstuck and move your life forward. Kedging is the answer.  

Here’s to re-storying our lives!

If you want a better life, it’s time to write a better story…