Thoughts

 In my work as a psychotherapist, I am fascinated by how often a persons’ stories interact with their natural landscape. How much of their identity is tied to their "home" landscape.  I’m curious about identity. How does our mobile culture, where people move frequently, untethered from the landscape of home… impact identity? 

Identity is basically our personality traits and values, roles over time and impactful life events. Identity changes over our lives. I was born in San Francisco. Memories are the sound of the sea and the smell of Eucalyptus trees. When I smell Eucalyptus, I access the girl who spent most days finding solace in green park spaces.  When I visit, I remember her better. If any landscape would be my home, wouldn’t it be my childhood home? Instead, in San Francisco I feel bittersweet; seeing the familiar and how it has changed. Would I feel differently if I had lived through the changes? 

I moved a lot between then and now; settling in Minnesota behind an old growth forest of oaks and maples. Those huge trees have anchored me.  I watch them thrashing in storms, standing green leafed arms outstretched, barren and still in a cold winter. I have repeatedly thought of how old, how much they witness just standing there. I have been comforted and able to bear more in my own life. I have grown some patience and perspective with their help. 

 I believe there is a type of learning we can’t get from each other, from AI, from any other place but the natural world. We can learn how to know ourselves better from interacting with the unknowable and to most of us, the beautiful. I have always loved the quote, "And what shall I love, if not the enigma?"

As a therapist, I listen to stories. . One of the most curious and inspiring type of stories is the “fight for love.” I don’t mean romantic love. I mean when loving is hard and challenging. When loving changes you but… you do it anyway. 

It could be helping a family member through illness, loss, financial hard times. It could be fighting for land, community.  I have heard farmers say they love the land. It could be the hard fight for the voiceless which includes love of nature, animals, the vulnerable. The point is the person fighting is mostly motivated by love, not hatred or justice.. although other values are usually involved. Motivation can be a murky business.

I have noticed some themes in those stories. Giving up is thought about and even happens silently, again and again. Acceptance of how hard this is and renewed willingness to keep going, happens again and again.It's rare I hear someone fully commit and not question their commitment at some point. To me, it seems human when we are suffering to question even if the answer is always the same. 

A challenging love helps us learn about how we love; positive and negative. The recommitting, the sticking it through.  Support from strangers, friends, relatives seems to be pivotal, synchronistic. Also, the negatives; people saying you should give up, you are crazy, it’s hopeless.  Many people have told me the “stop it' comment has the strongest opposite impact. 

Recently, I was in another country. I met people who were concerned, angry, disgusted by what was happening in my country. And so am I. When we finished talking I said but… I love my country. And they nodded. They understood. 

I realized in that moment, part of my identity doesn’t have to be about living in a certain landscape. I have a national identity. I love this country. This country is home, in a very broad, only way I know, definition of home. One of the inspiring things about the fight for love is choice. We can choose to fight for what we love about our country. It will change us. That’s the way love works. And what better to change us, then love?

 Andrew’s birthday today. It’s a harder day this year. I had this great photo pop into to my head. So I went with it. Andrew telling me what post… it’s a very happy photo at his birthday party. That great belly laugh! I miss my boy today. 

Piano

Driving through the blue gray

sky, the piano is moving her

Soft hammers sounding out

the dark bells of loss.

The cool air of spring is on

my cheek. Molecules are 

whispering in my ears, swirling 

into my brain. Pushing 

through my helpless chest 

into living cells.

We are all the same substance 

full of a million holes.

Leaking out and taking in.

This tender world is saying

You are sad. Go easy, go easy

Why

Why do I write poetry? 

to see my life! Themes, mysteries, 

patterns, questions. A place for 

clues to appear in the spaces 

between thought and word. 

Sometimes it’s just the 

hard lumps of words; irritable

and determined to be seen.

Still, the holiness of 

between 

is one place where I hear 

the universe sing out. 

Come In

This warm air surprises me

I am not done with winter

The fat starry flakes silently layering

Their white bodies into drifts

Smoothed by wind into curls.

The air biting my face and hands.

The warmth of people in winter

chattering in the entryway, removing

shoes. We all stand in our thick socks 

thirsty, waiting to come in.

Coming in is a part of winter 

An invitation, a connection, 

 an acknowledgement

Of suffering, of a cold world.

Again

Yesterday, my eyes 

caught the glowing white 

of two swans, flying low and silent.  

Later, a pileated woodpecker soaring, 

black wings wide, bright red head

a flag among barren trees. 

Last night I heard an owl

calling long, deep notes, 

then a pause, finishing in a series 

of quick soft hoots. I fell asleep 

in the forest's answering quiet. 

This morning, a day glow sun rose 

streaking pink into deep gray above

 the lunar landscape of late Winter.

It's like this. 

The world goes on. We can 

choose beauty again and again 

and again. 

ANXIOUS BRAINS

The deep freeze has stopped. I liked the stillness; the lack of movement and sound. . No bird song. The comfort of cocooning. This stillness, also called freezing is what happens in the fight or flight response. 

People experiencing those symptoms can feel like they can’t move or they want to run away. Rapid heartbeat, sweating, inability to think logically are some of the other symptoms. When I work with this level of anxiety, I remind my clients, your brain is trying to save you. The brain has perceived a high level of threat to your life. Therefore, it sends you a response to this threat. 

The problem is the brain with higher anxiety perceives threats too readily. It’s a short step to a panic attack if you’re already anxious i. e. worried alot, negative thoughts abounding about the future, unable to relax, not sleeping well, irritable and other symptoms. Which brings us to the fight response. Reacting with anger, feeling the urge to protect with a punch, a claw or a bite for example. 

So many people are saying to me in therapy: I don’t understand what is happening. The assumption being I can calm down if I understand. Sometimes, understanding what and why an event is happening doesn’t calm us down much. 

What can help is moving forward is not moving but addressing the fear behind the event in a non reactive way. Also reminding yourself of who you are; a person with internal honesty, a person with a sense of right and wrong. Values laid down and lived by. 

So, let's say you hear something in the news that feels literally crazy. You think it is a lie. So you try to understand. But if you value honesty, a lie is a lie.  Every lie erodes trust; allows all of us to question this person going forward. As a famous therapy book says, it's time to Go back to One. Go back to your values, your sense of right and wrong, your gut instinct about what is being said. Speak to your "what if" fear.

If the lie continues to be told vociferously, dogmatically, especially from people we want to trust; our response is to become more anxious. The anxious cloudy brain struggles to sort truth from lies.... Maybe part of it is true. Why would they lie to us? Overthinking the lie, trying even harder to evade the fear response. Saying things like we all lie, they are lying to protect us, themselves…

It’s better for your mental health to face the truth. They lied.  I don’t trust them as much. I’ll have to pay attention and question more of what they say. 

I can’t help but think about the British phrase used in World War II. "Keep calm and carry on." So smart! A great response to anxiety and fear.  That phrase was also about trusting leaders not to make statements or threats which only stir people up to a state of anxiety and fear that does nothing but cause suffering. That is not what is happening now. 

So it’s up to us. It’s going to be harder but it’s a muscle worth building. Be honest, with yourself and with others. By exposing the lie, we support each other in reality. By staying calm, we can think through our responses. We can learn how to work with fear productively. Not react, not panic. 

I don’t know why crazy things are being said.  I’m not going to waste my time and energy trying to figure it out. I’m going to think about whether this crazy thing being said works with my values, my intuition and voice my opinion by voting, by speaking up with friends, family and the people I elected. I’m going to take note of how often they lie or say crazy things and trust accordingly. 

And when I see people becoming homeless, children starving, families being separated, blatant racism happening because ultimately these changes are going to “make it better for all of us” I’m calling that out as the lie it is. Because after 40 years of working with suffering I believe, there is a level of suffering that is completely, utterly unproductive. And these changes have taken us there. 

A Prediction From The Trees

     It’s here.The wild end of Autumn. Trees with few leaves, shaking and holding on in cold bursts of wind. A messy landscape revealed in the wet detritus of bent branches, brown leaves stamped on wet ground.  

    The trees know the long inward march and the icy edges of snow.  Tough bark limits the bite of cold. Trees will watch another parade of winter with equanimity. Their bodies will hold a living record of this time. Then, their leaves will grow again. They will stand, roots sunk deep, with winter. 

    We know cold, how it chills, wakes us up, burn the skin. We anticipate, sometimes wrongly, the stretch of winter months. We have the slant of perception; historical and personal. We look backward, wincing over mistakes, reliving the shock and fear of past traumas. We have learned how the bitterest regrets become scars.

    Whatever future humans choose, they will stand knowing they played a part in it. Learned helplessness is believing you are unable to change a situation. You stand, frozen, not just feeling but as trauma has convinced you, knowing you are helpless. Fear has a powerful, compelling voice answering every protest with a tiny bit of truth. 

     So, I will remind you and me.  Respectfully because fear can be good and bad. You could give yourself a chance. You know doing nothing will mean damage; your own pain and disappointment will happen inside you. Listening to helplessness is not standing and doing nothing. It is actively taking in fear.

     When I walk my dog through stands of Maple, Oaks and Ash trees, I feel comfort. Together, trees are a forest whose peace calms my fearful, what if, heart. I remind myself I am here now, spending time among them while they stand swaying in a fearful wind. I remind myself of their age, their strength in standing with the endless seasons. And I stand with them,  breathing in this winey scented, unpredictable, wild world. Then, I walk on.

     It’s why I love walking. Each step, however hesitant, moves me forward. And has done so, from my very first toddling steps.  Each step moves all of us and each of us, forward. We are walking into our future every day. Let’s take a step.

     

Portugal

Portugal is green... Eucalyptus with paper like peeling bark, rough barked Cedar and tall Oak trees interspersed with twisted Olive trees.

Portugal is hilly. Slopes of 10, 12 percent in tiny towns hugging the hills. Curved streets so severe you couldn't see past the biker behind you. We biked for five days, experiencing more cobblestone streets than I ever thought I would see in my lifetime. 

Those towns created with tall houses jammed together with wrought iron balconies. Glazed tile fronts with patterns in pink, yellow, green blue. It became an act of will to not take a photo. 

Porto, a seaside town with a river of slow moving green slicing through, unfurling into the open sea. Small one window restaurants along the river front. We picked a fish off the ice in the front window, then waited at our rickety table  until we could eat it, grilled and surrounded by buttery potatoes. 

We stayed hungry that week; biking many miles, some of the more memorable near Porto. A system of trails built on old railroad tracks, much like Minnesota. Riding a bike on a smooth tarred surface through stretches of shady forest, smelling fragrant Eucalyptus trees and gentle farmland is one way to experience peace. 

We toured wineries and stayed in monasteries with thick walls anchored in calm. Walking the white stone halls meant easily imagining monks or nuns, walking meditatively in a comfortable rhythm with their swinging robes. Hearing bells in the courtyard seemed somehow natural. 

Yes, we were clearly tourists but asking directions was anticipated rather than dreaded. People were friendly and informative. On a tour of the town of Amante, our guide pointed out stone tablets on the churches. We were told if the church started to burn, the tablets named other churches nearby where people would come and help.  The system was in use until the late 1800s. 

We hired a guide to see the seaside town of Cassis; a small town with a castle, gardens and a lot of tourists. The sea was cold, braved mostly be surfers in wetsuits. The sea was also restless, hurling against lava looking rocks. 

 There was a softness about Portugal from the quality of the air suffused with Eucalyptus and Olive to the  language often with the "th" sounds. From the smoothness of the red wines to the friendly gaze of people. I breathed in a type of thinking I really liked. As if, when in thought on a problem, the past is considered but does not rule the present. Portugal has a way of living taking time lightly into account.  

Jim

 My friend Jim passed away. I was able to see him twice. The cancer diagnosis and his passing away happened in a matter of weeks. Jim was a good man. That sounds so simple but is the most true.  He was a man who knew how to be a great friend; always there to listen, concerned, caring. He was a man who had a life; adventures, living in rural Wisconsin on a lovely piece of land, owning his own business creating jewelry, especially wedding rings. Jim went to a lot of weddings. 

 He made me realize how important friends are...how a life’s most valuable action is spending time with family and friends. Jim taught me through the quality of his attention in our friend group, in his big laugh, his willingness to reach out, arrange and get together. You could see love and enjoyment when he talked about time with his sons and his siblings.

Jim came to Nadia's graduation. He came to Andrew's funeral and never shied away from talking with me about my grief. He grieved with me. 

 One of the things that became important to me in the last few years was to say out loud I love you. So, I started saying that to Jim. And he picked it up and gave it back to me. He didn't hesitate. He was a good, good man.

The last time I saw him at his house, he told me he thought he would have more time. A few more years at least.... A big reminder of one truth I learned when Andrew passed away. There is never enough time. So live now.. Don't wait to do it. Do it now. 

Enjoy heaven, Jim. I imagine the freedom of leaving your body which was in so much pain..I hope you can fly. I just know you're looking down, chuckling and enjoying us. I love you Jim.