Wednesday 27 November 2013

How to Find Peace in Any Situation

I'm currently in the process of becoming certified, through the McLean Meditation Institute, as a meditation teacher. Meditation was never really something that I gave much thought to, until I began realizing that my thoughts and my mind really was running my life, and not always for the better. I've always thought of myself as a "thinker" which can be both a good and a bad thing. The good thing is that my brain has enabled me to fulfill a long and rewarding career in nursing and to achieve many goals that I've had over the years. The bad thing about my brain, is that it never shuts down and is often filled with thoughts that are less than peaceful, loving and positive.

When I heard about quick and easy activities that could actually settle my mind in any given moment, I was intrigued. If we're being honest with ourselves, Alzheimer's disease gives us lot's of opportunities to worry and feel less than peaceful. What will happen in the future? How will this disease progress? Am I doing all that I can/should? Will I be able to handle whatever comes my way? Does this person still know who I am? Why does this person act in such strange ways? And, countless other questions, that leave us feeling unsettled, anxious and depressed.

Imagine being able to return to, or experience a feeling of peace at any given moment. There are ways that we can do this, but like most things it requires a commitment to try and a willingness to practice. Next time you're feeling stressed or anxious why don't you give it a try.  The following are some practices that have worked for me:

1) The first place to start is always with the breath. Turn your attention to your breath and how it feels moving in and out of your nose. When you're attention is on the breath, it is not on the things that you were previously worrying about. Your breath is a life line and your connection to the here and now. You can do this with your eyes open or closed.

2) When you notice your mind is wondering, and worrying, try bringing your attention to what is going on around you. If you're somewhere where you can observe nature, that is particularly helpful. Notice the sky, or the way the wind feels on your face, or the sun on your body. Noticing nature, is a great way to come back to the  present moment. If you don't have access to nature, just paying attention to what you're actually doing will break the thought pattern. For example, if you're doing the dishes and you're worrying or stressing about something, bring your attention to the dishes. How does the water feel? What does the soap smell like? When I first practiced this, it felt strange, but it really does work and the more you practice the better you'll get and feel!!

3) I find using a short statement which I find calming is really helpful. It can be something like, "this too shall pass" or "I'm calm" or "I can handle this".  I used the mantra, "I'm okay" the whole way up the final trek of Mount Kilimanjaro. Without the mantra, my mind was traveling to all sorts of really scary places and scenarios!

4) If you have a few minutes, listen to one of the guided meditations provided in the Mind Candy section of this blog. It will give you an opportunity to replace some of the negative, destructive thoughts with more peaceful, calming thoughts. Our thoughts are either helping us experience a more peaceful life, or they're causing us stress and all the harm that goes along with being stressed out!

What things have you found helpful to bring your attention back to the present and find peace in difficult situations?

Monday 18 November 2013

Why Suffering Could Be A Good Thing

How could anything good come from suffering? This was the question I asked myself when I first heard that there is an argument to be had for the benefits of suffering. I have to admit, that I really resisted the whole idea and thought that it must be coming from people who have never really suffered. Having said that, who hasn't suffered? It seems that we often feel that certain people and certain situations have more of a "right" to suffer.  For example,  someone who is experiencing the gradual and progressive loss of their mind due to Alzheimer's disease may be perceived to have more of a right to suffer than someone who is suffering because they lost all their money in a stock market crash or a bad business deal.  The important thing, though, is that it doesn't matter where the suffering comes from, the experience at a physical and an emotional level is similar. Suffering hurts and most of us try to get as far away from it as possible.

Although the experience of suffering is universal, regardless of the cause, the response to suffering from the external world is varied. For example, people may be more compassionate to someone who is suffering due to illness or loss, whereas not so compassionate if it's felt the suffering is self inflicted. So what good then could possibly come from suffering? If there was no suffering in this world, there would be no compassion. Compassion is a seed that is watered in people when suffering is present. To avoid suffering, means we stunt our ability to grow compassion.

The more I reflected on this, the more I could think of situations when I witnessed and experienced this.  I can think of so many times when family members of people experiencing dementia would respond differently to their situation. The family members that were in close and constant contact seemed to demonstrate more compassion than family members who, for whatever reason kept their distance. I often wondered what role compassion had in their involvement. Were they more compassionate because they were present, or were they present because they were more compassionate?

Unfortunately, suffering is not going to disappear anytime soon and since it's needed in order to develop compassion maybe it's a necessary thing. So, if we're left to suffer at times in our lives, how can we learn to suffer less and turn it into a growth opportunity?  I think the best way to do this is by observing our suffering and how we feel without trying to deny it or change it. When we accept our suffering, it seems to transform it. When we resist our suffering, it seems to magnify it. Another way to address suffering head on, is by asking ourselves, "what am I grateful for in the midst of the suffering?"  This question shifts us from being a victim of our suffering to being receptive to finding the gifts and lessons in the suffering.

I would love to hear from you about how you have managed suffering in your life? Has anything good ever come from your suffering?


Sunday 10 November 2013

When Connection Makes You Sick

The past couple of weeks has been interesting and definitely given me an opportunity for personal growth and reflection. My journey with my parents continues as they face significant health challenges. My mom fell and broke her pelvis and was admitted to a rehab facility for several weeks to regain her function. My dad, was left at home heading into the final round of treatment for cancer. The interesting thing is that I could see that a crisis was coming and couldn't do anything to change the course of the inevitable. You see, what I observed was the significant amount of stress that my mom was under and her inability to separate herself from what my dad was going through. At a subconscious level, it was if she needed this crisis in order to change the circumstances of her life. The longer his health issues went on, the sicker she became. It's as if their energy was joined and although I always believed it, I observed the profound impact that one person's energy has on those around them.

Reflecting on my experience with Alzheimer's disease, I think this commonly happens in the relationship between the person with the disease and the care partner. The challenge for the care partner, is how to stay connected, compassionate and present without making yourself sick. How do you maintain detachment when we're all so connected? If I'm being honest, I really didn't do a great job of that when I was going through it. So maybe that's why I have been given another opportunity to practice it with my parents who are currently going through their struggles.

One of the single most helpful things has been the practice of mindfulness. Being mindful has enabled me to be present in the moment without being swept up in the current of worry that arises when  thoughts are focused on the future. In this moment, everything is okay! Even if it's difficult to believe, everything is as it should be. The other great thing about mindfulness, is you learn to get in touch with your own feelings and emotions and observe how they are influenced by your circumstances and the energy of other people. With this increased awareness brings a level of acceptance that may not have been there previously. If you're interested in learning more about mindfulness, Mindfulness in Plain English by Bhante Gunaratana is a great book.

Now that the crisis is over, I really can see that everything happens for a reason. My mom is more peaceful than she's been in a long time and realizing that she needs to take care of herself. My dad is learning how to cook and I'm reminded that nothing is permanent, which includes both the happy and the sad times.


Monday 4 November 2013

Alzheimer's: A Slipping Away


Erika Dyck, an Associate Professor in the Department of History, University of Saskatchewan, wrote this poem 25 years ago, while in grade 7 about her Grandmother. Thank you Erika for sharing this beautiful poem with us!

It is like a living death, 
takes the mind and leaves the breath.
The body is there for all to see,  
floundering without memory.

First, just harmless forgetfulness,
then soon grandma needs help to dress.
Tasks once handled with such ease,
are beyond reach for those diseased.

Household chores are out of hand,
constant care is in demand.
Close companions come and go,
who they are, she doesn’t know.

Those left behind as the memory goes,
believe they can cope with the status quo.
But the reality is, they cannot face,
a disease that progresses at such a pace.

The confusion she feels is never lost,
only shared by others at great cost.
Communication, now on another plane,
my sorrow for her is hard to contain.

How could nature be so callous,
to condemn someone who had no malice.
Who’s next, who will it be,
mom, dad or perhaps me?

Erika reflects 25 years later on the poem and her experience with her Grandmother's Alzheimer's disease....


My grandmother died when I was in grade seven.  I had the good fortune of spending a lot of time with her as a child. She cared for me when my mom returned to work after each of my siblings was born and I have strong and very fond memories of happy times, like playing cards and Hi-Q with her.  We often spent time exploring outside in the large garden full of fruit trees and the large compost pile that we fed regularly.  We played in the kitchen too; Grandma making meals and me making a mess.  I don’t have a distinct memory of her getting sick.  I just remember little things.  We used to sort the garbage each week, which was a ritual my grandmother had acquired after living through the Depression and saving anything remotely useful.  We carefully smoothed out wax paper wrappers, tin foil scraps, and sorted items that could be burned or composted from the few things that truly needed to be placed in the landfill.  But the weekly rituals became more confusing, I now realize in hindsight.  Over time the sorting sessions took longer and longer and seemed to have no real end goal.  Items would move from one pile to another and back as she lost the thread.  As a kid though, I didn’t notice, I liked playing with my Grandma.

As I got older and started school I continued to spend time with my grandparents.  Grandma had always talked to me about my lessons and always appeared to have time to work in a game of cards while we discussed the day’s events.  But that too became more difficult over time.  I got busy and noticed less, but she seemed more and more distracted.

My cousins visited too.  There would be loads of us kids running through the house or chasing each other across the street at the school yard.  We would take over the entire house setting up train tracks with impossibly long and winding routes.  Grandma would quietly watch us destroy her house and she sometimes slipped into the background.  She seemed quite tired often.

In grade seven I was chosen among my classmates for a lead role in the school play.  I had to practice daily as we prepared for several shows in the spring.  By then Grandma barely recognized us, and no longer knew her own children or my Grandfather.  We visited her each day after school, but the visits were hard.  My mom kept a porcelain rabbit with hard candies filled in my Grandma’s room.  I used to feel angry that I thought my younger siblings only visited to get the humbug candies she kept in that rabbit.  My Grandma would sit or pace in her room, and couldn’t even express herself or describe her far away thoughts. She lost weight.  Her eyes seemed to change from blue to grey.  My heart aches now remembering those days.  Her eyes often seemed very far away, though they remained kind and searching.  She was in there, but there was somewhere else.

My Grandma died just before our school performance.  The funeral was set for the opening night.  Everything is now a blur to me.  I can’t even remember the faces of my distant cousins who traveled to pay their respects.  I certainly don’t remember any of the lines from the play.  I remember my Grandfather listening to Mozart’s requiem for days, loudly, on repeat.  My father and his brothers went quiet. 

Although her death was merely the end of a long slipping away, it created a hole in our family that had long been developing.  She had kept things together and had a calming influence on those of us around her, even through her time with Alzheimer’s.  I feel extremely lucky to have known her on both sides of the disease.  My cousins and siblings ask from time to time about my memories of her, and I feel honoured to have them to share.  I hope that my memories and reflections can afford her the dignity that she deserved, even as she wrestled to hold on to her own thoughts.

I have recently become a mother, which has encouraged me to reflect on family in new ways.  Memories of my Grandma’s kindness, her gentle nature, and her strong intelligence have come back to me as I struggle to keep my patience as my toddler draws on the walls or builds towers with my spice collection on his sister.  My Grandma never yelled to my recollection, yet she raised four boys and had grandchildren under her feet in most of my days with her.  I think of her strength and imagine her patience as I come to face my own trials as a parent and a partner.  I know that many people think I didn’t really know my grandmother; that her illness had taken hold already when I was young.  I’ll never really know whether that is true, but I like to believe that I learned a lot from her, and still am.