Feeling and not feeling...

Near the end of one of the chapters in Kay Redfield Jamison's book, An Unquiet Mind, and about three-quarters of the way through, she refers to a piece of music I wanted to follow-up on:

"That night, waiting for my moody, intense Englishman to appear--needlepointing, watching the snow fall, listening to Chopin and Elgar--I suddenly was aware of how clear and poignant the music seemed, how intensely, beautifully melancholic it was to watch the snow and wait for him. I was feeling more beauty, but more real sadness as well. When he arrived...I put on Schubert's posthumous Piano Sonata in B-flat, D. 960. Its haunting, beautiful eroticism absolutely filled me with emotion and made me weep. I wept for the poignancy of all the intensity I had lost without knowing it, and I wept for the pleasure of experiencing it again. To this day, I cannot hear that piece of music without feeling surrounded by the beautiful sadness of that evening, the love I was privileged to know, and the recollection of the precarious balance that exists between sanity and subtle, dreadful muffling of the senses." (p. 163)

Here is the piece I think she was referring to (although if I have it wrong, please let me know). Perhaps you might like to stop all other doings, turn up the volume, and listen with full attention?

If you feel sad while listening or full or or thankful or joyful or you feel longing, keep breathing. Breathe fully with the feelings. Remember to breathe.

Venn diagrams and a wonderful book

This morning, I awoke early. Shortly after 4 a.m., I absorbed the quiet of the early morning accompanied by the beautiful song of birds, and the beauty of a crescent moon shining brilliantly in a clear sky. How wonderful.

I did, also, go back to sleep. How glad I am, however, for that early morning awakening and time.

Yesterday, I finished reading An Unquiet Mind by Kay Redfield Jamison, subtitled A Memoir of Moods and Madness. (For people in the Kingston area, it is available at the local library, KFPL). This is a book I highly recommend. She wrote this book so truly well. It was an absolute delight to read. I offer her my deep respect for her courage, genuineness, and tenacity. This book is at least partially about manic-depressive illness, her life and experiences of it, as well as her work as a clinician and researcher and her journey of reconciling and navigating both. I have in mind here a picture of a venn diagram where there are two circles and they partially overlap in the center. Do you remember those? Perhaps because of my own work as a therapist and my status as firmly also a human being subject to all that that may entail, I reflect on the overlapping part often enough--the place where we are (and hold) our whole self, all of us, with all of our different identities, experiences, roles and parts.

Kay has considered at length the question of whether she should work as a clinician given she has a mental illness. She puts forth the firm tenet that work as a clinician must be for and about assisting clients and patients: "Doctors, as my chairman is fond of pointing out, are there to treat patients: patients should never have to pay--either literally or medically--for the problems and sufferings of their doctors" (p. 209-210). I also agree. Kay has worked very hard to make sure she succeeds in this. As she writes she has been careful and been fortunate. She has sought out much support and put many safeguards in place. She is also now a world expert in her field and someone who has contributed enormously to assisting people with mood disorders and especially manic-depression. Additionally, she is an advocate of psychotherapy including clinicians participating in this. I say, kudos to her. She was refreshingly real, and her book, reflections, and disclosures intelligent, thoughtful, moving, funny, poignant, and, once again, courageous.

***

A quick glance at some of the comments people have made on amazon.ca leads me to add one caveat. I also agree that Kay has been fortunate in the support she has had around her (family, colleagues etc), the professional support she has been able to access, the sabbaticals she was able to take, as well as the financial security and stability her particular jobs offered her. This occurred to me also while reading. I do not begrudge her or think her less courageous but I do wish to acknowledge how isolated many people can be, including people with this illness, and how difficult it can be for them to access resources, assistance, and support. If you are one of those people, I wish to say, I am truly sorry it is so terribly hard. I offer you my encouragement and my deep hope that you will find a way to persevere in life one small step at a time, and that grace will enter in all the ways it can--whether from a sunrise that is glorious and pulls one into life, or a meal (or meals) provided by another, or a helpful helping professional that you meet, a job that you like and can manage, the balm of friendship, or from all other manner of helpful things. I am thinking of you.

the popularity of fresh flowers

Yesterday, two black birds wandered through the yard pecking for food. One flew away. The other, before departing, picked a sprig of forget-me-knots from the garden, like a small bouquet, then took to flight transporting it by beak. 

Begin

To write a blog post, or write, or gain increased flexibility, or start a relationship, or learn more about something, you have to begin. So I will do that here--begin--after another month away from posting, and offer you three possibly disparate things. Although, likely they also share threads of connection. If you see one, consider posting what you find. I'm interested to hear your ideas.

Here we go:

1. In March perhaps, I watched an engaging, courageous, creative documentary on copyright and remix culture. It is called, RiP: A Remix Manifesto, written and directed by Canadian, Brett Gaylor. You can watch for free on the web--just follow this link.

2. Tweenbots. I discovered this via someone posting it on a list-serve I am on. Curious? Click here.

3. A quote of words that a friend sent me in a little note today. I had heard it before, perhaps several years ago, and it was excellent to receive it again. (I offer my thanks.) These are words one might benefit from reading each day upon waking and each evening, or when self-doubt or sadness stops by, swimming or storming in.

There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. --Martha Graham.

Yesterday, I pondered the question:

What is the best that could happen?

how many fingers?

Yesterday, I went for a long walk in the amazing spring weather Kingston was enjoying. It was not a fancy walk to an exotic location. Rather a simple walk a number of times around a dirt track near where I live. That was just fine: to walk along at a leisurely pace and reflect and enjoy the sun and take in the scenes around me. These were scenes that included many people out walking their dogs--or visiting with each other while their dogs played and tumbled about. A young girl, age four fingers and two thumbs, slowly approached walking with her beautiful, tan-coloured dog. Unfortunately, I forget the dog's name although I was introduced. (I'll use a substitute name here.) I smiled in her direction. She asked, "Would you like to pet my dog, Natasha?". I was honoured of course. The dog, as it turned out, was eight fingers, two thumbs, and two more fingers old--and appeared very gentle, wise, and serene.

On my second attempt...

This is the second whole chicken I have cooked in my life. The first, I cooked about a year ago. It turned out in such a way that it left lots of room for improvement. Today's, however, turned out great. I suspect I would have made my great-grandmother proud--although she might have wondered what took me so long.

Roasting this bird brought me a lot of satisfaction and I wondered why. I enjoy cooking, so that may be what it was about. But I suspect there are at least two other factors: one, I got to experience the thrill of doing something new(er) and the satisfaction that comes from accomplishment and having moved significantly along a learning curve; and two, it was an accomplishment or "contribution" that was concrete, unlike a significant percentage of the work I do as a psychotherpaist working with others: this is work that is satisfying and wonderful for me but it can also seem somewhat elusive or intangible at times, difficult to "see" (or show) the work I have done. I do see it but it's not the kind of work where I can say, "see that gorgeous painting or that product or that sidewalk? I did that." And, by the way, that's okay, and I also have many lovely stories, concrete in their own right. At the end of the day, it's nice for me to be able to experience both: to operate in the realms of the tangibles, like the roast chicken, the workshops I develop (then teach), the garden and in the realm of the intangibles, the things you cannot pick up with your hands but you can know just the same in your heart.

Coming back to the bird, with thanks to people who provided resources on the internet for others to benefit from:

• the recipe I used for roasting the chicken can be found by clicking here for "Bacon Roasted Chicken" at allrecipes.com (I read some others' comments on the site and modified the recipe a little bit)
  
• a brief lesson in carving a chicken--something I was also needing--can be found in this video, the first one I came across, which made it look easy enough (and it was).
  

And also with thanks to my mom--who gave me the bird to roast--picking it up on a buy one, get one free special. She was a guest for the meal of my first bird--the one that didn't turn out so well, and she and those present ate it graciously and helped supportively. I suppose, giving me another bird to try could be a way of saying "you need more practice" but really, I think it was more a way of saying, "here is some food as a gift," "I got a great deal," and also "I believe in you."

Inspired? Try roasting your own chicken--or, if you are a pro at chickens (or have no desire to cook or eat such a thing), try out something you haven't done before--just for the thrill of it... I'll invite you to consider also how you might in the coming week offer to someone else a gift of nourishment, kindness, or the gift of conveying, "I believe in you". Then, to do this in some concrete way, however large or small.

I am celebrating much today, including the sun that is shining gloriously and unexpected, the spring bulbs that are bursting green sprouts through the soil, friends, kindness, baby steps, and growth...

Best wishes to you.

Tracy