Reaching out ... again

Things I cannot do effectively with just one hand:

1. Floss -- well, not really, because there's the alternative 'floss-on-a-stick' that allows me to literally, single-handedly keep my promise to my dentist to floss (almost) everyday. No, I didn't get the ones that look like little green dinosaurs (although I wanted to). Nevermind.

2. Open prescription bottles (so you can take the pain meds that'll let you open prescription bottles ... you get my point). Someone who's life purpose is to refuse to be daunted said 'hold the bottle in one hand and push it against your chest, and the cap should pop open.' I tried it, and there were no caps popping, I assure you.

3. Pressing Ctrl, Alt and Delete at the same time -- until I discovered I've been unnecessarily traversing the span of the great keyboard divide ... when I could have done this all on the right side of the board. A little spread of the thumb across Ctrl and Alt and my forefinger is free to Delete. Mission accomplished!

4. Not quite so easy with this next one -- getting dressed, er, waist up, that is. I made the mistake of trying to do this myself -- but it's the taken-for-granted dexterity of the delicate quick twist of the wrist that accomplishes the trick of hooking my bra strap (there, I said it) ... and this very act stresses the surgery site. So, big ouch, and, ... well, to my next point.

There are a few more things on my list but, at the end of it, the one big thing I know I cannot continue to do with one hand -- is to not ask for help. As much as I hated to rely on someone else to pick up my prescription for me when the pain meds did not work the first time, or to help put on socks, I did allow myself to ask for help. To suspend any judgement on my debilitations and accept, that for now, I will reach out -- bulky bandage and all -- and accept the help I need.

My independence can take the backseat while I catch a ride to the movie theatre.

Glass door

Grounding Words has been such a generous project. The challenge of etching my thoughts in digital permanence, stripping layers of emotional scab has been miniscule compared to the higher consciousness, deeper relationships and sweet sincerity it has drawn to me.

One such serendipitous relationship is with my guest blogger, K. G. She and I have peeled off a couple layers of personas to reveal to one another a kinship we share -- our daughters. I've invited her to share a note she sent to me on a beautiful insight she gained in her travels as a mom.

Some of you may know that I had carpal tunnel release surgery this Wednesday (hence the slight hiatus -- my article on Vicodin and its psychedelic colors, and the perils of a one-handed typist will be forthcoming ...) And, you may have read that I had been planning to get this done in an earlier blog. That is the pain that K.G. references in the beginning of her note.

K is embarking on a new chapter in her life as she prepares to wed her daughter off in two weeks. I point out the obvious strength I sense about her, me crumbling just with the thought of college in a couple of years.

Thanks for letting me share, fellow traveller.
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I wanted to wish you well today as you have your pain issue resolved. You could look at this as a process in your evolution. Without pain, we don’t realize we have problems. Without problems, we can never be truly understanding and compassionate for others experiencing similar life issues.

I was thinking about your daughter last night. It reminded me of a time I was caring for children in my home. We had about 15 children after school and after a snack they went outside to play to let off some energy. My helpers were outside at the time and I was inside cleaning up after snack and I saw something that shouldn't be happening (can’t really remember anymore what it was) and I proceeded to rush outside.

Earlier that afternoon, the sliding glass door had been cleaned. It was as though the door wasn’t really there and I tried to run through it. Predictably, I slammed into the door nose first and found myself flat on my back!

Sometimes parents have to act as that door.

We give our children a glass to look through to see the outside world, wonder about it and hopefully ask questions about it. But, when they try to go through the door before they are ready, we are the door that holds them back. Sometimes they are grateful and other times, they hurt their nose. Would I remove the door because I slammed into? Of course not. It was there to keep my family safe. It protected us from the inclement weather and those would invade us. But, I did learn to be more cautious running out the door.

Only by running into the ‘parent door’ do our children learn not only to be cautious but that parents are firm in their convictions and their dedication to keeping us safe. Eventually, the door will open and they will go out but they will always know that the door represents where they came from and uncompromising love. Sometimes they run back until they get used to the feeling of freedom and need to feel the security of safety behind the door again.

Finally, one day they step out and don’t come back but they know the door is always open to them. That gives them the courage to keep moving on.

I hope this gives you some hope and confidence when you have to be the ‘door’ and feel the pain.

Cadence

From the time I was seven until I was 16, I studied music. With the help of a private teacher, I took exams with the Associated Board of Royal Schools of Music, being assessed on the fundamentals of music -- the elements of making it and playing it.

One of things I learned was how to recognize harmonic cadences, the progression of chords that concludes a phrase, section or an entire piece of music. Think of this as musical punctuations -- is it a comma and is there more to come? Or, is it a period, foreshadowing the close of a brilliant masterpiece?

It was hard to memorise the different types of cadences and their purpose. But I found that when I stopped questioning and just listened, the music will almost always speak for itself -- you can feel the lift that takes you into a refrain, the slight sauntering of chords into a new verse or the comforting, conclusive resolution that you can sink into at the end of the song.

Last week, I heard the word 'cadence' used in a different way. It was used to describe the frequency and type of touches used in marketing campaigns. The question in point: What is the right cadence -- how often, to what degree and what type of communications -- to start a relationship, to deepen one or to relinquish all ties with our clients.

At first I thought -- here we go, the English language being abused yet again. But then, of course -- what perfect sense! What is the ultimate rhythmic sequence and flow, what measure of touches, the right words to reach out with so we take it to the next step -- in marketing, in business. And, in relationships.

How much before we say with a falling inflection of the voice, 'Stop, that is enough.' Or when we modulate from a choice of pulling closer or ... letting loose.

Then, of course, Nature's natural cadences are at play all the time -- when day turns to night, when flowers must bloom, and when it is time for red and brown leaves to fall from trees. I'm guessing our own inner rhythm is attuned to this universal sense of timing as well -- especially when it comes to our personal evolution.

I can't say I understand how the cadences of my life work their way into the music of the Universe. Perhaps I need to stop questioning it ... and just listen instead.

For its lifts, a silent sauntering or for a progression of chords moving to a harmonic close, a point of rest or a certain sense of resolution.