Sustenance For The Journey
This week, on the chalkboard, written four-hundred, ninety-four years ago:
And so, at this time, I greet you, not quite as the world sends greetings, but with profound esteem and the prayer that for you, now and forever, the day breaks and the shadows flee away.
~Fra Giovanni, Christmas Eve, 1513
The first portion of this title arrived in full form after visiting with my neighbour recently, a woman I described in last week’s post as someone who impresses me regularly. She impresses me, is impressive, and also is needing (and deserving) of care–just as we all are. From the visit and the title it evoked, I was reminded once again how everyone needs caring and how even those who impress us are needing of care. They are as flesh-and-blood as the next person, as me. They are as human, no less vulnerable overall, as fully needing of caring and love. (Have you ever thought someone else’s grass was greener–or snow whiter and lighter–and temporarily forgotten this?)
Then, though, what about the people who don’t impress us? What about the people who seem to repeatedly demonstrate lavish non-caring, who hurt others badly with apparently no conscience, who do terrible things? For me, a dilemma arises: they also need care but giving care can be extraordinarily hard.
I value caring and recognize the humanness in all of us, that you are as human, as vulnerable, and as wonder-full as myself, that we are different, yes, but not so different, and that no one is fundamentally worth more than another. I believe in this. Yet when someone does terrible things to another (and especially when there is no acknowledgment, honesty, and remorse), well, I find that hard. I do not feel deep caring easily or readily, if at all. I do not feel warmth. Typically, I feel very angry.
I am aware that the approaching holidays can evoke all sorts of things for people. It can be a time that stirs up very difficult or painful things. It can be a time that feels nourishing, exciting, uplifting, or fun. It can be a time that is confusing, exhausting, a roller-coaster ride mix of much.
In part, the holidays are a time where the value of caring is put centre stage (as well as consumerism by some etc). I feel much care toward and about many others. I do not feel warmly caring toward some–or caring at all. In some instances, I do not forgive. I may not be willing to offer caring directly (or to feel fully caring) and may not be willing to forgive, yet it can be experientially difficult to be mired in non-forgiveness and anger or caring-with-reservation without an option of something else to do (something that might offer a helpful focus or reprieve).
This week, I seemed to find a kind of workaround that allowed me to feel care with more integrity and without forgiveness, that held anger alongside truth, that honoured conviction, embraced generosity of spirit, and seemed to offer some ease of a load instead of the heavying of one. I prayed. Specifically, I prayed that those who have demonstrated non-caring, cruelty, and who have caused much hurt may heal–holding the belief here that in order to heal, a person must be honest. There is no other way. In these situations, persons would have to face honestly the non-caring (or blatant cruelty) they are doing or have done.
Even people who do not impress us need care. I believe this, too, though I do not condone terrible acts or believe if we are the ones who have been badly hurt, we have to give of ourselves to them as if nothing has transpired. This prayer was a way this week I could offer care without disparaging or losing myself.
As an aside, I also felt and expressed deep gratitude for all the caring that exists, for all the ways I have been offered care, and for the ways I have been able to give. I prayed that all those who offer caring (and have offered caring to me) may be deeply blessed and that I, too, may be a light and a blessing.
If these holidays are evoking difficult things for you or you find yourself in difficult circumstances, I offer you my warmest regards and encouragement. My hope is that you will find comfort, healing, solace–if not all at once, then bit by bit. If you find yourself feeling joyful, comfortable, okay, I offer you my warmest regards and encouragement, too. If you have hurt others badly or demonstrated a lot of non-care, may you heal.
Blessings and care to you.
t.
A friend of mine and her housemate have a chalkboard outside on their front porch that is situated near the street. The chalkboard is mounted roughly at eye-level to any average-adult-height people walking by. The words written on the board change from week to week and usually include an excerpt from a poem or other writing. I love the idea of this chalkboard and how it brings a bit of creativity to the street and commented one time that I might try to further the trend by having a similar feature at the front of my home as well. For some logistical reasons, I don’t as of yet so for now, I will satisfy this interest with a cyber-board and call the blog’s quote of the week space something like “On the Chalkboard” with a weekly (or so) rotation of collected words.
I was thinking that it would also be nice to have an archive of these, so I will also add the weekly quotes into blog entries that can easily be found by clicking on the “on the chalkboard” link at the right under categories.
The first quote of the week that aired on this blog was taken from a card I came across one evening in a card shop during the time that this blog was coming close to fruition. The card read: What is possible should be done right away. What is impossible might take a little longer. (See reference below.) As I mentioned in my first entry, this blog was born at a time when I was very depleted physically and emotionally. For some reason, this little card offered me a spark. It connected to a core inside of things I believe in and that have pulled me forward over and over again as I have stumbled and persevered along toward various visions and goals.
The task is to create possibility in the face of impossibility. I heard someone say this once many years ago and I have never forgotten. At the time, they were saying it to me in direct application to my life. It was my task to persevere when it all seemed quite impossible. I have done that with the help of others (known and unknown) and continue to aim in that direction. I have also been thinking about how this has become one cornerstone of my work helping others. There are many times when that’s what the people I am working with are doing, what I am doing, what we are doing–bit by tiny bit, creating and working to create possibility.
I realize I have a thing for this: I have a thing for the small. I also hold a kind of powerful knowing and belief that it is in the writing of one word, then one more word, then another that leads to the writing of a poem, an essay, a book; it is in the laying of one brick, the entry of one computer programming code, the planting of one seed, then the next that leads to the development of a larger whole.
One of my neighbours who is about 84, if I recall correctly, impresses me regularly. She’s out shoveling snow, out for daily walks, busy baking, growing food, praying. Early on, I sometimes experienced her as a bit more forward than what felt completely comfortable to me but I have since come to see her as quite amazing and lovely. One day, perhaps two summers ago when I was dealing with some significant and very stressful house problems –perhaps as the worst of it was coming to an end–we were outside and she put her hand on my shoulder and said to me in an encouraging, empathetic, and kind way, an Italian phrase that I did not understand. Then she translated, effectively saying, Rome wasn’t built in a day but brick by brick. Yes, I knew that was true and still know it deep in my heart–though sometimes I have wished something could be built or change or come about much faster, sometimes for myself as applied to my own life or circumstance and sometimes for someone else, for example, when they are experiencing so much hardship or suffering or stress.
So the little, beautiful card, made me think of all that–or conjured up one feeling or thought, that connected and conjured up another, that led me to tune in again to certain kinds of information and ideas, and so on.
The card with this blog’s first quote of the week comes from a Canadian owned and operated family business called “Heritage Gallery Designs” and the painting the card was based on is by Emily Filler. To explore these gems further, visit www.thegentlepath.com and www.emilyfiller.com.
Over the past few weeks, winter unofficially arrived in Kingston bringing with it much beauty and many moments to savour. I think here of:
However, the arrival of the snow brought other types of experiences, too. The combination of sidewalks covered by snow and ice with today’s milder temperatures created an effect somewhat akin to certain particularities of walking along a sand beach: one foot sets down then slides around a bit; next foot steps down, then slides around. Sometimes it feels as if you are taking one step forward, then sliding a quarter of a step back.
As I faced a similar phenomenon walking home tonight on sidewalks covered by slush, slow and steady is what came to mind–take one step with some sliding around and possibly some slipping back, then take the next. Slow and steady. Just keep stepping along bit and bit.
I did. The air felt great and I found that what initially felt like a far walk ended up feeling not so far when accompanied by the gentle step by step, bit by bit walking along, as well as accepting that today’s walk might take more time, include some slipping, and perhaps, also, some smaller steps.
I want to tell you a story about a relative of mine now deceased. The story is as I understand it thus far based on what I have been told. Her name what Bessie Comer. She lived in a home her father had built in Kingston, Ontario that was known as Maple House or The Maple Family Home. I am not sure exactly how this name came about except that there was a maple tree in the front yard and the word Maple was written in stained glass above the front door. The house and stained glass inscription remain today.
From what I have been told, Bessie was a writer who aspired, at least in part, to write articles for the newspaper. Some essential context, however, is that women were not permitted to do such a thing at the time (at least, not to have articles in print). That is a sad part of the story.
Yet Bessie did have her articles published. She wrote under the pseudonym Maple. Her articles were accepted and did appear. I don’t know how she accomplished this exactly but somehow she found a way.
Here, I believe, enters inspiration.
I am remembering Maple a lot these days: her courage to have a voice, to find a way. Indeed, I originally thought of calling my blog just that: remembering maple. In the end, I didn’t but somehow I have the sense that my work with Maple is not over yet. She visits me in imagination and I am glad for that. Her visits offer renewal, strength, a kind of fuel to an inner fire.
What stories have you encountered that made you feel a bit stronger in conviction or courage or hope and led you to take another step? If you feel comfortable, please do share one or more of yours below. It seems to me that these are great stories to share and feel and know.
If you are feeling low on such stories, or even empty, please accept this story as one for your own.
For over a year or so now, I’ve thought I might enjoy having a blog–or certainly the idea has intrigued me and I’ve felt that familiar inner tug or spark of life that indicated interest. I’ve wondered, though, what exactly would I write about, and struggled to hone in on some focused topic. Constellation is a steady theme in my life when it comes to my interests: that is they are varied and I tend to flutter back and forth between them. This is both wonderful and has some drawbacks. Nevertheless…
This blog–my first–has moved from a period of gestation to birth at a time of great inner depletion–a time when I have been powerfully drained both physically and emotionally. There is perhaps a great irony in this. And yet, through this time of depletion, it may be easier to see that which provides sustenance, and to be attuned to this in all its minute degrees. When one is depleted, the potential is there to be even more aware of that small thing that lifts one’s spirits or gives one a boost of energy whether to cook a meal; or re-evaluate one’s activities, direction, choices etc; or …to start a blog, to take some other step into adventure or learning something new, doing something different (or differently).
I have been longing for more creativity in my life and I like to write–all measures of good writing or aesthetics aside. I also wish to inspire and support hope, compassion, and richness of experiencing in others, as well as to practice and experience it myself. So this blog is a gift to myself, whether it lasts for one week, one month, or one year, and it is also intended to be a gift to you, to all those who stop by.
That which maintains or sustains life–in someone or something–comes in all sizes from the tiny moments, the micro-moments to the grand as well. I aim to provide micro-moments of sustenance, little morsels for the journey from the material of my living: that which I have encountered and has moved me in some way, and to do this one time or more each week. I also aim to provide food for thought when it comes to the question of what nourishes, enriches, and sustains–with references to daily living, as well as reflections from work in my chosen field(s), which includes counselling.
Back to those tiny moments of “oomph”: I’m curious, what has offered you a morsel of sustenance over the past few weeks? Please feel free to share below. Your sharing is welcomed with warmth.
Sustenance, as defined at www.thefreedictionary.com, refers to:
It is my belief that there are multiple things that support life and health. While I hadn’t thought about it quite this way before, it occurs to me now that sustenance–in all its multi-coloured robes–is the lifeblood of my work–to work to support life and health; to act to sustain; to promote hope, compassion, richness in living, wholeness, healing.
In this blog, I aim to embody the spirit of sustenance and the nurturing of this from my unique vantage point as a person with a certain set of experiences and life circumstances (just as you have yours); as a mental health professional; an artisan; a dreamer–in whole, as a woman making her way in the world.
I endeavor to write on this site to provide stories, ideas, and resources directed at sustenance, little morsels for the journey, snippets to nourish, sustain, or inspire. I will draw from the material of my living–that which I have encountered and has moved me in some way. I also aim to provide food for thought when it comes to the question of what nourishes, enriches, and sustains with reflections from daily living and from work in my chosen field.
