March 30, 2011

"The only way I can get him back is to be happy, to feel peace in my heart, to live the way he showed me to live, and to make use of the gifts he gave me."  --Unknown

I found these wise words scribbled on a piece of scrap paper when I was sorting through a pile of papers on my desk.  The words were surrounded by quotation marks, which usually means I wrote them down while talking to someone on the telephone.  This time, though, I forgot to make note of the speaker!

And I regret that because whoever spoke these profound words deserves credit for understanding the key to healing our feelings of grief.

Grieving doesn't mean replaying hurtful memories over and over again in our minds.  And it doesn't mean continuing to relive the painful feelings we associate with loss either.  Yet, that's what many of us believe grief to be-Feeling lousy.  Staying with the sadness.  Living less than whole lives.

It's as if we believe we have been "chosen" to bear the pain of losing someone dear to us and now we must "honor" that task by never feeling joy again.  Continuing to grieve, we believe, keeps us connected to the loved one who has died.  It would be disloyal to feel anything else!

Yet, nothing could be further from the truth.

The process of grieving is simply another name for the process of healing.  Grieving means finding the love that remains even though loss has occurred.

When we focus our minds on the memories of what our loved one taught us and gave us and, when we incorporate those lessons into who we are now, we find meaning and personal growth.

Our loved ones who die, especially our pets who love us unconditionally, don't want us to feel lousy out of loyalty to them! Hey, they loved us!  And anyone who truly loves you wants you to be happy, right?

If you're feeling sad and depressed because you're grieving, allow yourself to truly FEEL those feelings, down to the tips of your toes, and then release them and move on to the feelings of love.

Feel peace in your heart and make use of the gifts your pet or your human loved one gave you.

 

March 23, 2011

"If you truly hold a stone, you can feel the mountain it came from."
-Mark Nepo

I'm one of those people who likes to start my day with a bold cup of black coffee and the readings from three or four collections of daily meditations.  One of the daybooks I'm reading this year is The Book of Awakening: Having the Life You Want by Being Present to the Life You Have by poet Mark Nepo.

I can't say enough good things about this book.  For me, Mark's wisdom is stunning.
In his Introduction, Mark, a cancer survivor, says that in writing this book, he was "longing for a manner of expression that could be as useful as a spoon." He succeeded in creating that useful tool.

Mark's guidance is never preachy or "motivational."  Instead, he shares his insights through his own story, deepening his personal experiences with universal lessons and parables from many other schools of thought.

His entry for March 15 really struck a chord with me because it's about the power of symbols.  Mark says, "symbols are living mirrors of the deepest understandings that have no words."  All we have to do is look at or touch them and the feelings and times that are long gone come back to us.

Mark suggests that mankind's first symbol probably came from the caveman.  While picking berries, he may have been cornered by a huge, now-extinct animal.  Spared by the sudden snap of a tree limb when it scared the beast off, he took a piece of that fallen limb and kept it with him as a good luck charm.  Thus, man's connection to symbols began.

The feelings and memories attached to our symbols are, of course, already there, deep within us.  The objects or symbols themselves aren't imbued with any real magic.  They are simply sweet reminders, guideposts directing our thoughts to the happy, loving times that are always there, but not always in the forefront of our minds.

My home is filled with symbols like the ones Mark describes.  I have my favorite grandfather's carved pipe (on the right), my mother's antique tea set and, of course, several ClayPaws® prints of my pets.  As Mark's opening quote reminds me, when I truly hold a paw print, I can once again feel the essence of the pet it came from.  Isn't that the powerful connection we're all looking for?

March 16, 2011

"Instinct is the nose of the mind."  --Madame de Girardin, French writer

As a veterinary grief counselor, I'm often spellbound by the stories clients tell me about how they find their pets.  Many of these stories have a magical quality about them.
One of these stories has stayed stuck in my mind for years.  It's about what happened when a young man followed his instinct about a certain black lab...

Mark was in his early 30's and an avid skier. He spent every day off and every weekend skiing in the snowy mountains of Colorado.  Since skiing was his first love, he didn't have a wife, own a home, or, heaven forbid, a pet.  "There was no way I wanted anything or anyone who would tie me down," Mark told me.

But, one day, after his last run down the mountain, Mark saw a woman carrying a cardboard box from car to car in the parking lot.  Curious, and feeling a strange pull toward the woman, he approached her.  "I remember walking very slowly, like my feet weighed 80 pounds," he said.  I" didn't really want to see what was in the box, but I couldn't help myself.  It was as if I could feel Fate directing me!"

While Mark was still 20 feet away, the last remaining puppy scrambled out of the box and bolted straight to him.  Instinctively, Mark scooped up the dog into his arms, the puppy licked his face, and that was it.  Mark was now committed to Jake---a living, breathing being who couldn't ski.

So, what did Mark do?  He became fond of cross-country skiing and took Jake with him.  They spent many sunny afternoons in the wilderness, skimming and romping over the sparkling snow.

Until the day Mark accidentally set off an avalanche and was buried in three feet of snow. Jake dug him out.

"I think Jake came into my life so he could save my life," Mark told me.  "Without him, I wouldn't be sitting here with you."

Mark returned the favor, saving Jake from bone cancer by allowing surgeons to remove his leg.  They still skied but, after Jake's surgery, they stuck to the trails and never again ventured into avalanche country.  Mark said he didn't need those kinds of thrills anymore.  Being with Jake was thrilling enough.

Is there something mysterious about how or why you bonded with your cat or dog or horse?

Stop by our Facebook page and tell us your story. And come on over to the Vet Wisdom Café today and read about a missed pet bonding opportunity that I missed, and still regret.

 

March 9, 2011

"We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget."
-Joan Didion, writer

My youngest daughter Kaia is graduating from high school in May.  When my oldest daughter Bryn graduated four years ago, I made a "This is Your Life" scrapbook for her, reviewing significant people and events from birth through high school.

Whew!  Seriously, I am still trying to recover!

But, artistic burn-out aside, I want to create the same memories for Kaia, so the work of sorting through photos and ephemera has begun.

In the process of collecting the "just right" memories, the memories that signify entire phases of her young life, I've been appalled by how much I would have forgotten without the various mementos I've saved.  At the same time, I've been dismayed by how much stuff I've squirreled away!

There is an entire shoe box of baby shoes-knitted booties, beaded moccasins, worn-out jellies, and bright red Norwegian clogs, featuring flower designs hand-painted by real Norwegians!

And there is an entire box of pet-related souvenirs---tiny collars outgrown by puppies, adoption certificates belonging to cats, and, of course, dozens of ClayPaws® prints bearing the impressions of cats, dogs, guinea pigs, and even a beloved crayfish.
All these pet keepsakes have me wondering---which ones will my daughter decide to keep forever?  I mean really forever, taking them with her out into the world and into her adult life.
Honestly, I don't have any keepsakes that belonged to my childhood pets.  I have a couple of photos and that's it.  And, as an adult, I've had so many pets that their mementos and cremains have now taken over all of the drawers and shelves of an étagère in our hallway. 
It's probably time to pare down.  But, which keepsakes are my "sacred objects," the truly precious and meaningful ones?  I'm going with a photo of each pet, one ClayPaws® print of each, and the heart-shaped night light made of red glass that I bought in memory of my first cat Chelsea almost three decades ago.

What are your "sacred objects?"  Stop by our Facebook page and tell us what you've saved.

 

March 2, 2011

"What I've seen here in Tucson is the verb-ness of love.  That love is what you do, who you are, and how you show up.  Love is bigger than most people try to limit it to be.  It recognizes that you live in connection with everyone.  Therefore, compassion is an automatic response."

--Rev. Donald Graves, Center for Spiritual Living, Tucson, Arizona

 

I'm basically a teacher and a writer---a teacher and a writer who is also a trained mental health professional.  During my almost 30-year career, I've focused all of these roles on one thing.
 
Grief.
 
So, as an expert of sorts, I've kept an eye on the ways our society and, more

specifically, our media deals with grief.  I'm delighted to say that I've seen some heartening changes!
 
More and more often, the media is showing us the love and compassion that come with loss, rather than the murders and trials and the despair.  Instead, it's showing us how people are healing and helping one another through times of grief.
 
In other words, it's showing us the "verb-ness" of love.
 
Don't you love that term?
 
As Rev. Graves points out in the quote above, the recent shooting in Tucson showed us what love in action looks like. And, it looks like compassion--the "awareness of and desire to alleviate distress and suffering."*
 
Let's get out there today and be a verb!
 

*Merriam-Webster dictionary definition

 

February 23, 2011

"Early one morning when the birds were singing, I had another heart in me."

-Anonymous 8-year-old from John Fox's Institute for Poetic Medicine enewsletter, Dec. 2010

 

Recently, I was privileged to attend several events during GRAMMY Week in Los Angelos.  After auditioning, my youngest daughter Kaia was chosen to be part of the high school jazz vocal ensemble.  This was four girls and four boys chosen from across the country who came together for one week to practice (endlessly!) and then perform.
 
These kids had amazing experiences.
 
They sang back-up vocals for Sara Bareilles at a concert at USC.  Bobby McFerrin scatted with them during a GRAMMY nominee's reception.  They opened for Best New Artist GRAMMY award winner Esperanza Spalding at a jazz club in Seal Beach.  They performed at the MusiCares gala honoring none other than Barbra Streisand.
 
And they got to attend the GRAMMYs.
 
All, I can say is, "Wow."
 
My daughter was in heaven and so were my husband and I as we followed the kids around like a couple of aging "groupies."  Like the insightful eight-year-old who uttered the opening quote, when I heard my daughter singing, I felt like I had another heart in me.
 
A joyful heart.
 
An open, generous heart.
 
There is something about music, whether it is a child's voice or an early morning bird, that soothes and uplifts the human soul.
 
            This experience reminded me about how important and healing music can be if you are grieving or anticipating a loss. So, if you are having a down day, open a window or go outside and listen to the birds.  Later, turn on the radio and listen to some smooth jazz.
 
Find that other heart that lives inside you.
 

The heart that only knows love and peace and joy.

 

February 16, 2011

"My aunt Beulah used to call it making an Oops into an Opportunity."
-Nancy Jarecki, "Head Strong", Vogue, February, 2011

      One of my heroes is Dr. Martin Seligman, author of Learned Optimism and father of the positive psychology movement.  Dr. Seligman has been influential in turning the therapeutic community from identifying pathology to instead identifying what works.

     While working as a young researcher in an animal lab, Seligman coined the phrase "learned helplessness."  He used this phrase to describe the behavior of the lab dogs who he believed had "given up" trying to avoid or change their situations because they seemed powerless to do so.  Later, Seligman applied his observations to people and began to study the differences between those who believed they were powerless (pessimistic) and those who believed they could affect their own fates (optimistic).

      And, by the way, he stopped doing research with animals.

      After many years of developing his theory, Seligman now suggests that optimism can improve health, enable achievement, and guard against depression.  And, he believes optimism can be learned and practiced.  It's all in how we train ourselves to think about life's problems and events.

     In other words, are you a person who routinely makes an oops into an opportunity or do you wallow in the oops?

 

February 9, 2011

"It is in the middle of misery that so much becomes clear.  The one who says nothing good comes of this is not yet listening." 

--Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Years ago, I had a client whose small dog had recently been snatched by a coyote from her backyard. As we talked, I learned that her husband had also died in a rock climbing accident and her cousin had drowned in a lake during a family reunion.
 
 "I hate nature!" she sobbed.  "Only awful things happen outside."

Over the months that we met, I became concerned about the many ways this lovely young woman was limiting her life because she now feared the outdoors.  She stopped taking her young children to a park to play.  She didn't walk her surviving dog.  Vacations to places like Yellowstone or the Grand Canyon became out of the question.

Then, one winter day, she told me something surprising.  She said she'd gotten up that morning and gone to the kitchen, as usual, to get a cup of coffee.  But, today, instead of sitting down to read the newspaper, she'd walked over to her patio doors to look out into the backyard.

And, she'd found herself gazing straight into the eyes of a fox.

He was sitting in the middle of her yard, facing her house, with his bushy tail wrapped around his front paws.  His orangey-red fur was startling beautiful against the white snow.

"He didn't move when he saw me," she said, her eyes gleaming with the wonder of it all.  "He sat perfectly still and stared back at me for a very long time.  It was as if he had been waiting for me."
 
 "Did he tell you anything?" I coaxed.

She hesitated, wondering if I would think she was crazy if she told me that the animal "talked" to her.

"He stared at me with these bright, intense eyes.  Honestly, I couldn't look away."  She glanced up at me to see if I was buying it.  And, of course, I was.  "It seemed that he wanted me to come outside," she said.  "And, the weird thing is that I wanted to go.  I wasn't afraid."

After that, my client began to relax a bit, to "dip her toes into the water," so to speak.  During other conversations, she told me that the fox had seemed very much like her late husband.  The voice she had "heard" in her mind and the presence the fox emitted had the same feel as her husband's when he was alive.

Nature does occasionally do damage.  But, nature also heals.

May you benefit somehow today from the healing power of Mother Nature.

February 2, 2011

"Formulate and stamp indelibly on your mind a mental picture of yourself succeeding.  Hold this picture tenaciously.  Never permit it to fade.  Your mind will seek to develop the picture."

--Norman Vincent Peale

I have a confession to make.

When I left work, I used to feel myself dreading the task of taking my dogs outside for a walk or play time in our yard.

I asked myself "why?" many times.

Did I dislike the outdoors? No, I loved being outdoors.

Did I dislike being cold or hot or wet, if it was raining?  Well, sort of, but I had all the appropriate clothes for any sort of weather, so that wasn't it.

Did I dislike giving up my time?  Ahhh, there was the resistance!

I'm a person who tends to dislike ANYTHING that I perceive I HAVE to do, even if I know I'll enjoy myself once I get into an activity.  I'm rebellious that way. . .

And my rebellion often sets me up with conflicting desires, like my desire to be lazy and cozy indoors (perhaps reading a book) versus my desire to be the person my dogs think I am (their fun, responsible puppy mama!)
 
So, on the way home, I began to ask myself, "Which choice will contribute more to the person I want to be?"  And the answer to that question prompted me to put on my coat and gloves, grab a tennis ball, and trudge outdoors with two happy, dancing dogs leaping and yipping beside me.

Now, this is the mental picture of myself I hold in my mind.  And the choices I make now are clear because of that image.

Battle over.

Happy dogs!