Kindness

Kindness

by Naomi Shihab Nye

 

Before you know what kindness really is

you must lose things,

feel the future dissolve in a moment

like salt in a weakened broth.

What you held in your hand,

what you counted and carefully saved,

all this must go so you know

how desolate the landscape can be

between the regions of kindness.

How you ride and ride

thinking the bus will never stop,

the passengers eating maize and chicken

will stare out the window forever.

 

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,

you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho

lies dead by the side of the road.

You must see how this could be you,

how he too was someone

who journeyed through the night with plans

and the simple breath that kept him alive.

 

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,

you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.

You must wake up with sorrow.

You must speak to it till your voice

catches the thread of all sorrows

and you see the size of the cloth.

 

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,

only kindness that ties your shoes

and sends you out into the day to mail letters and

purchase bread,

only kindness that raises its head

from the crowd of the world to say

it is I you have been looking for,

and then goes with you every where

like a shadow or a friend.

 

From Different Ways to Pray, 1980.

 

Unafraid

Unafraid.  It’s what cancer survivors long to feel.

What would your days and nights be like if you felt unafraid?

Unfortunately, fear of recurrence is one of the most common, distressing and least addressed side effects of having cancer.

This was the result of a recent survey I conducted of the cancer survivors in my JoyBoots community.

Think of it.  For all the grueling treatments, invasive procedures, damage to the body, and let’s face it, real physical pain, psychological suffering and emotional fallout are the most distressing. 

Does this surprise you?

I’ve been tracking this fear within myself for the past 10 years and seeing it in my cancer survivor clients.

Here are a few heartfelt expressions of the fear of recurrence:

How do I quiet the circular thinking of “the better I feel, the less I trust my body not to betray me again?” How do I keep perspective?

How can I feel safe in my body and in my life?

How do I get past my panic, especially in middle of night, which prevents sleep, which affects my health?

How do I face the possibility of not being there for my children?

 

So what can help people “live well with uncertainty?”

In my experience, living well with uncertainty means pulling yourself back into this present moment and appreciating the NOW. And it also lies in surrendering the notion that you can control the future.  The future will be here soon enough – what you have now is this moment.  What are you going to do with it?

Living well also means rebuilding your physical and emotional energy. Being motivated to stay in the game.

And I believe there is an emotional cure in company.  Company who listen, understand, and join you when you are in a dark place, so you don’t feel so alone with the universal fear of mortality that cancer brings into sharp focus.  In fact, in company, you may temporarily experience that feeling you long for of being Unafraid.

 

 

 

 

Room for All of This

 

“We think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved.

They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again.

It’s just like that.

The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen:

room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.”


― Pema Chödrön

Treasure in the Clay Pot

“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”

Joseph Campbell

 

Leslie had the next 5 years planned out.

She had quit the large law firm in order to stay home with her kids. Her plan was to eventually move into flexible part time practice for more time home and less pressure to make billable hours.

Leslie was an organized woman. Vacations and visits to relatives were scheduled in advance. Babysitters and grandparents were on call to help as needed. Her house was clean and orderly, even with young kids. She volunteered, gave money to good causes, and had good friends.

Leslie felt competent and in control much of the time. This was very important to her. Like any young mother she was sleep deprived, but things were working out well and she had a strong belief that with correct planning, life would get better and better.

And then one day, she discovered a lump in her breast.

You can guess where this is headed…

To put it bluntly, all of Leslie’s expectations came to a grinding halt and things changed forever.

Though she had good insurance and lots of support from family and community, it was still excruciatingly difficult to undergo aggressive medical treatments for the better part of a year. She felt lonely and confused. She also felt depressed and scared. Sometimes she felt angry.

And when the active treatment was over, she was left with many side effects, especially chemobrain and lymphedema of the arm and torso, both of which caused her much frustration and grief.

———————————

This past weekend, I visited my mother in Houston. As we were sitting in her church on Sunday morning, I was struck by one of the verses and thought of Leslie and what it takes to recover emotionally from cancer:

For it is the God who said “Let light shine out of darkness”…But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed…

2 Corinthians 4:5-12

You may feel all of this as you go through treatment or recovery from it: afflicted, perplexed, persecuted, struck down. And I would venture to say that many of us also feel crushed, despairing, forsaken, and destroyed at times.

The key to freedom is the treasure in the clay pot that lifts you out of these dark places of isolation, fear, and feelings of abandonment. It’s the light inside of you, the clay pot being your body…

In my view, the Light is your experience of the Infinite, and a power greater than yourself, however you imagine that to be. While parts of you are finite and your body is vulnerable and limited (especially as you go through or recover from cancer), the Light is also there, just beneath the surface.

Remembering this Light, connecting to it is, is part of yoga and meditation practice.  A favorite element of kundalini yoga practice is the song we end with in class:

May the longtime sun shine upon you

All love surround you

and the pure light within you

guide your way on

 

 

 

Make Room

When my daughter was a toddler, at Montessori school, she learned many important life skills. Lately, I’m reminded of one in particular.

It is the ability to “make room.”

When the children would crowd up trying to see something, start a new activity, or gather around a snack table, one child might be behind the others, trying to get in, but blocked or pushed aside. “Let’s make room for our friend,” the teacher would gently say, and the little group would part to include the new person.

The lesson wasn’t shaming, as early childhood lessons can sometimes be, depending on who is delivering it. This cue was gentle – a reminder that the space was not fixed or rigid. Everyone could fit if there was willingness and flexibility. Nobody had to be left out.

Make room.

This is not a phrase I grew up knowing. I grew up in a competitive, achievement oriented environment that did not value vulnerability.

There were no adults gently saying “make room.” It was more like “You snooze, you lose!” “No pain, no gain,” “Finders keepers,” and, well, you know the rest.

Of course, focusing on a goal inspires action and toughness and hard work.

But the gentleness of making room for others is such a tender practice for me to learn with my daughter. Anytime I say it to a child, they do it with grace and eagerness. It acknowledges the legitimacy and right of everyone to participate. It grants the choice to be generous and inclusive.

Making room is also an important part of healing emotionally and physically from the effects of cancer and cancer treatment.   People struggle tremendously with so-called “negative” emotions – anger, pain, loss, fear, grief, and often are convinced that it they allow a “negative” thought, feeling, or sensation to have space at the table of awareness, it will take over and destroy everything.

We squelch these feelings because they are uncomfortable or painful.  But you simply cannot outrun (or out squelch) yourself and your experiences forever, as much as many of us would like to be able to do!

I’ll admit it. I’m on a mission to encourage people to begin to make room inside themselves for their feelings, instead of attempting to repress, deny or escape them.

Imagine there is room for everything to be present. Don’t feel like you have to push anything away. Imagine that your thoughts and feelings have the right to be here with you, whatever they are, part of your human experience.

Take a few long deep breaths.

 Have the intention of spending a few moments observing and allowing the feeling to be present, just one of the crowd of thoughts and feelings. Experiment with not pushing it away for a few moments.

It’s a simple, subtle, practice, this making room inside yourself.  Simple, but not easy.  Eventually the goal is to befriend the difficult sensation, thought or emotion, so that it’s not an enemy at the gate.

But you don’t have to move so quickly.

You can begin by entertaining the idea of generously making room at the table to include a more vulnerable part of yourself, just as the children make way to include a new friend.

 

 

 

Rhythmic Healing

This video demonstrates an easy exercise cancer survivors can do to help calm the mind and integrate thoughts and feelings into the bigger understanding of life.

Bilateral stimulation of the body gets the circulation moving and helps to balance the hemispheres of the brain which has a soothing, healing effect.

Similar to the trauma intervention called EMDR, kundalini yoga exercises get both sides of the body moving in a rhythm with the breath.

Act of Rebellion

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The news is troubling to me. And I know I’m not alone.

I hear from friends and clients who also worry about our country’s leadership, the economy, violence and oppression.

Among people touched by cancer, there is a genuine fear of losing health insurance benefits which could mean the difference between continuing to live and thrive and dying.

It’s a heavy situation. And yet, cancer survivors have faced heavy situations before. To survive and thrive, you must pace yourself. http://www.kellyinselmann.com/monday-morning-videos/learning-to-pace-yourself/

Rest is essential if you want to be strong enough to continue living and to stand up for yourself and others. Can you give yourself permission to nourish your body and mind by setting aside the unknowns and the fears for a few moments?

The rebel in me likes Child’s Pose.

I bring my forehead to the floor and feel relief.  Closing my eyes, I temporarily

withdraw from resonating with the sorrows of the world.  

                   Sitting on my heels, forehead to the floor, my arms are relaxed to the sides or along the floor above my head.

Knees are open to relax the hips.

In this era of “infomania,” we are stimulated by thousands of competing thoughts, fears, feelings, and ideas.   There is much information and precious little understanding.

In this context, Child’s Pose is a subversive and vital act of rebellion.

Simple and intrinsic to our bodies; babies and children do it in their sleep and play.

In Child’s Pose, time slows down. I temporarily reject the outside world to experience my inner one. I feel grounded, connected to the earth, and aware of the sensations in my body.

Symbolically, it is a classic position of vulnerability and humility.Neck exposed, my head (and intellect) is momentarily surrendered. No more obsessing, problem solving, planning, attempting to control things.

In my Yoga and Talk ® Therapy Group, “Denise,” who suffers from chronic fatigue since her cancer treatment, feels a shift when she comes into Child’s Pose, dropping into her body and the felt experience of herself. She later describes child’s pose as a refuge from her fearful thoughts about her condition, the expectations of others, and anxiety about the future. Over time, Child’s Pose has become an experience of safety she draws on when stressed or exhausted.

And for me, each time a group comes into this resting posture, or I do it myself, I feel the subversive power and potential that is cultivated through deep rest.

 

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