A warm welcome to all of the new subscribers to What the Day Holds. It is wonderful to have you here!
In this newsletter, I write about the present moment intimacies, tender beauty and shocking difficulty of caregiving and how I am learning to tend myself while caring for my husband who has Parkinson’s.
I also write about how I make art and soul of my experiences in relationship with myself, others and the world.
I hope you are inspired to do the same.
What one of us lives through, each must, so that this, of which we are
part, will know itself.
~Carolyn Forché
The holidays were a wonderful time to surrender any have-tos. I savoured the time to be with my hubby, watch movies, eat good food and walk in the forest with dear friends.
Now, as I prepare to head back to work in a few days, I am in more of a “doing” mode. For those of you who are new here, last fall, after two years of mentoring writers online, I let go and started working in my local school district as an Education Assistant. I had no idea what a relief it would be to just do a job every day that brought the money in so we could take care of ourselves. Nor how much a set schedule of four days a week would support my self-care. Nor how working so intimately with young children would nourish me. Nor that I would spend more time in the forest, more time meditating, more time on the yoga mat, and more time with Gregory, kissing and snuggling.
Maybe that’s what limitation does… it allows us to be more intentional with the free time we do have. And this year I want to continue to devote some of that time to sharing my words with you. Speaking of words, I have chosen two as touchstones for this year. They came to me quickly, although I did hesitate writing them down.
Joy & Play
How could I choose such optimistic words as a caregiver? When there is so much grief, loss, sudden change, increased responsibility, is it practical to focus on joy and play? Yet, I realize, in the face of it all, there is really no way to proceed without these two qualities of being. I need them. They are vital to the ways I tend myself and cultivate my connections with the world. After all, every life has experiences that we can’t anticipate. Moments and situations when we are pulled in a new direction, shoved from the path we thought we were meant to be following and nudged toward something else. Last fall was one of those moments for me.
I’d spent the year studying business development practices to support me in upping my game as an entrepreneur, had devoted considerable time, money and energy to this goal. And yet, the more I tried, the less I earned. An inverted equation. Why me, I could have wondered, but I kept going and suspended my judgements of myself and the program. Who knew what was in store?
Did I do everything the coaches suggested? Yes, and no. Did I work on my inner resistance to some of the tasks? Yes. Did I ask for more and more support from my sister entrepreneurs? Yes. And then, in September, I acknowledged, with the help of my husband, that despite all the hours of effort and heartfelt intention, it wasn’t happening. My student numbers had dwindled. I needed to do something else.
Fast Forward to today. January 5. In a few days I return to work at Fulford Elementary school for another semester. It took a few weeks… alright, a month… alright, all fall to get accustomed to the new routine and the new role I was playing with kids. I had some good days; others were more morose. I was challenged to stay with it. There were moments when I looked at myself in the teachers’ bathroom mirror and asked: “How did I get here?”
Meanwhile, I started to recognize how my presence and the ways I was interacting with and supporting students was benefitting them and the school as a whole. And then I felt something even more hopeful. The satisfaction of being a part of a school where every adult was working toward the same sacred intention: to create a safe, loving space for children to grow, learn and thrive. I had worked with organizations with similar missions in the past. Without a deliberate intention, here I was, a part of another one. Lucky me!!!!
I also feel that way about the neighbourhood we moved into two years ago. By chance, a dear friend connected us with the landlord who needed new tenants. We couldn’t have known that in doing so, we were landing in a neighbourhood which would offer so much safety, love and companionship to both of us, in the most congruent and care-full ways.
I recently rediscovered a quote from one of my favourite authors, poet and philosopher John O’Donohue.
“I would love to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding.”
It’s become a mantra, a way to remind myself to embrace the unknown, welcome the serendipitous and practice being receptive to change.
~Do you struggle with accepting change?
~Do you wish you had a fairy Goddess-mother to help you move through change in a softer way?
In 2022, I developed a self-directed mini course called Writing Yourself Through Change which introduces the Gates of Loving Inquiry as tools for supporting people through transition. I would love to offer it to you for FREE as a New Year’s gift and a thank you for subscribing to my Substack.
To access it, click here.
P.S.
My two words of the year, Joy & Play, are also Gates. If you are interested in walking through the Gates with me this year on Substack, become a paid subscriber. I will be sending out a “Gate” once a month which will include poems, stories and images inviting reflection and creative contemplation for your caregiving journey.