When Nothing More Can Be Done

 “Illness and the opportunity it presents people to engage consciously and actively in a journey toward wholeness can be one of the most transformative experiences that life offers. It provides you with space for self-reflection, for caring for yourself and your needs in a way that may not have been possible in your busy everyday life. It can give you time for learning about who you are, your purpose, your potential; a time for reassessing your priorities and the value of your relationships, work, and possessions. Illness (or disease) can be the beginning of a deep, spiritual quest.” Rituals of Healing :Using Guided Imagery for Health and Wellness, by Jeanne Achterberg, Ph.D., Barbara Dossey, M.S., FAAN, and Leslie Kolmeier, R.N., MEd., (p. 12). 

New York City in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy.

As  Hurricane Sandy slams into the U.S., the system brought winds high enough to knock out my power here in Michigan. It is difficult to read about and watch the reports of damage. And it comes at a time that is already tender for me as I prepare to be guest speaker at Berrien Unitarian Universalist Fellowship Sunday morning at 10:30.

The title of the message is, "When Nothing More Can Be Done." The message is based around the inner journey that happens to a person when the medical community gives up on him or her. In 1999 when Jane's surgeon saw 22 malignant tumors on her liver, he closed her back up and told her he could not keep cutting on her. Saying her head was in a bad place, he suggested she find a "holistic healer".

I have never met that surgeon, but I am grateful to him for giving Jane a nudge toward changes that were much more than skin-deep. In Love & Survival: 8 Pathways to Intimacy and Healing, Dr. Dean Ornish reminds readers that even when drugs and surgery are necessary, they are just the beginning. The physical body – the heart, is more than just a mechanical pump. Ornish says you also have an emotional heart, a psychological heart, and a spiritual heart. 

“Curing is when the physical disease gets measurably better. Healing is a process of becoming whole. Even the words heal and whole and holy come from the same root. Returning healing to medicine is like returning justice to law.”(p. 15)

You can read my story, but the abbreviated version is my having been in chronic pain, on lots of prescription pain medication, diagnosed with a degenerative disease, and told that I would never have quality of life. Quite often I have been heard saying it is fortunate that you do not have to take bad medical advice, even if you paid good money to get it.

When Jane called me that first day, I told her the truth: Healing is the most natural of processes. I told her we can all remember a time when you cut a finger or skinned a knee. Something inside you allowed healing to occur. That something inside you is your innate healing capacity.

The greatest goal for everyone who works as a facilitator of healing, is to support the individual discovering the attitudes, beliefs, and behaviors which turn on this innate healing capacity to its maximum.

The Tibetan Book of the Dead is actually more of a manual for the living. It does address the questions around what might happen to us after death. As Annie Shapiro writes, "Once you realize that life and death are not separate, then death becomes just a continuation of the journey."

San Francisco's Laguna Honda Hospital, a model of care from the Middle Ages.

While mere focus on cure—rather than on healing—might see all death as failure, when you come to look at life as the process of living, as more than flesh and bones, you gain a greater sense of the sacred art of healing. You might enjoy reading this review of Victoria Sweet's book, God's Hotel: A Doctor, A Hospital, and a Pilgrimage To The Heart of Medicine: "Because caring was what created the personal relationship between patient and doctor. And that relationship was the secret of healing." (p. 82)

I am so blessed to have Jane Foster accompany me on Sunday morning, and I am sure folks there will want to hear her share some of her personal account. If you are not able to be there in person, you can meet Jane in a short video interview I did when Jane and I met for lunch in May 2011.   

The things that promote a genuine sense of meaning in our lives, our connection to others and to what is sacred, can heal our lives even when medicine is not able to cure our bodies.

Welcome Change

This past weekend I was fortunate to attend a fall meditation retreat at the Howell Nature Center. To allow us to enjoy being in a more timeless place than is practical in our everyday lives, bells are rung for “wake-up” and at mealtimes, and five minutes before group gatherings. Since I am an early-morning riser, and not everyone is, I signed up for ringing the wake-up bell at 5:55 a.m. on both Saturday and Sunday.  

I got dressed, and after walking slowly throughout the lodge softly ringing the bell, I had time for a walk out in pre-dawn quiet. The first morning, moments after stepping out-of-doors, I was thrilled to hear owl! I could tell it was not far from where I was, and I stood very still for a few moments just listening. This was especially tender as I have so recently enjoyed reading the story of Wesley the Owl. (see the previous blog post)

This retreat was my second with the Deep Spring Meditation Center group, and this time change happened. We had an opportunity to meet with the instructors, and to ask questions about our meditation practice. People asked about seeing colors or having body sensations (such as tingling along the spine), or perhaps hearing music or sensing a presence. 

I asked for help with a frustrating habit of mind (counting) during my walking meditation. I was given a very simple suggestion to use a rotating focus during my meditation. Begin paying attention to what you are hearing, and make a mental note of “hearing.” Then shift your attention to your posture—sitting or standing or walking, and make a mental note of “sitting.” The next focus would be on “touching.” I noticed my hands on my lap or my feet on the ground, or the hair against my forehead. Next, the focus would be on the breath, with the mental note of “breathing.” 

This allows you to observe not only what has your primary focus, but it also allows you to become aware of the predominant focus. As I had noticed when I was doing walking meditation, my predominant focus was on that inner voice which kept counting. The teaching of this particular form of meditation (Vipassana or Insight or Mindfulness) is to allow what is in your awareness, not to try to resist it, but to just lovingly acknowledge it. This reminds me of a young child who was insistent on getting your attention. Ignoring him or her only generates more insistence! 

The suggestion I was given was to simply notice the counting and say to myself, “Breathing in I am aware of counting. Breathing out I smile to counting.”  Now, mind you, I had been struggling with this habit of mind for years. One time doing this gentle act of awareness, the counting stopped. What a welcome change....

Oh, the owl that I so enjoyed hearing was one of several who are part of the Wild Wonders Wildlife Park at the nature center. The Howell Conference & Nature Center has been caring for wild birds and mammals since 1982.

  

You can use this process with emotions like fear, anger, frustration, or with behaviors like judging, criticizing, worrying. You can do it with basic mind habits like thinking, remembering, planning  The next time you become aware of an unhelpful habit of mind or body, prove to yourself it works. “Breathing in I am aware of­­­­_____. Breathing out I smile to_____.”
 

The welcome change is something worth being grateful for.

The Owl In Each of Us

Finally, more out of desperation than cleverness on my part, I began to work with Wesley using language and imagery.

Wesley the Owl, by Stacey O’Brien (p.198)

Reading these words this morning just about took my breath away. Those who know me well, recognize language and imagery as part of my soul work. Stacey, caregiver and companion to Wesley the barn owl, was faced with a serious challenge. When Wesley was about 15, his talons and his beak were becoming dangerous to her and to him. She needed to file them, but how was she going to get him to cooperate?

Stacey began to sit very still and send thoughts and pictures to Wesley about how she was going to be able to file his talons and his beak for him. Wesley was used to Stacey speaking aloud to him so she began to prepare him for the process. She decided to focus on his beak first, and over the next few weeks, she would file her own nails telling him what she was doing. She filed his perch. She would speak to him in a reassuring tone, telling him what she was going to do for him. All the while, Stacey was holding the image of peacefully filing his beak. 

This morning I was guest speaker at Pilgrim Congregational United Church of Christ, here in Saint Joseph, Michigan. The title of the message was "Persistent Faith: Whatever It Takes." I shared the amazing story of Aron Lee Ralston, who survived a rock climbing accident in south-eastern Utah in 2003. After having been trapped for five days and seven hours, he was forced to amputate his own right arm with a dull Swiss Army knife. After freeing himself by cutting off his arm, he then climbed down a 65-foot sheer cliff face! The incident is documented in Ralston's autobiography Between a Rock and a Hard Place, and is the subject of the film 127 Hours.

Research about emotions, beliefs, attitudes—about brain function—and immune response is proving to us that, in fact, being able to imagine is key! Because humans process their subjective experience, in part, as pictures, when someone says, “I just cannot see how I will get through all of this,” according to Dr. Emmett E. Miller, author of Deep Healing: The Essence of Mind/Body Medicine, we are not just hearing words, we may well be witnessing destiny. Miller’s work shows clearly how beliefs and images become actual physical events in the body. 

I have been very affected by Aron Ralston's courage and will. 

One year ago today I was in Monaco. As I was touring the Exotic Gardens (about three acres of amazing succulents, overlooking the Bay of Monaco), I got separated from the woman I went to Europe to travel with. Amid some extremely stressful interpersonal dynamics, I actually thought she had left me, testing me to see if I could find my way. I did not speak the language, I did not have a cell phone, I did not know the name of the hotel we were staying in, and I had no Euros. 

Then the moment arrived. I slowly approached his perch, 

"It's time to fix your beak, now, okay?"

Wesley closed his eyes, hunched down, braced his legs, 

and stood perfectly still. 

I was amazed.... I filed and filed.... 

Wesley did not move a muscle or make a sound. 

He just kept his eyes shut and acted like 

he was intently focused on not feeling anything.

When I was finished, I wiped his beak and said, 

"Okay, Wesley! Good job! All done! What a smart bird! So brave!"

Wesley the Owl, by Stacey O’Brien (p. 200)

As I remember that day in Monaco, so far from anything familiar, I marvel that something within me allowed me to beg money, board the right bus, get off at the right stop, and find the hotel. 

 When I remember the emotions I went through that day, I realize the truth: We have each survived things that allow us to have at least a sense of what was going on in Ralston's mind. 

By grace, we each have within us the necessary stuff to do whatever it takes.

Amazingly, this must be true for owls, too!

Listening

Eyes see only light,

ears hear only sound,

but a listening heart perceives meaning.

This quotation by Brother David Steindl-Rast is published in his book, A Listening Heart. You can see a review of the book by Sister Mary Margaret Funk on Monastic Interreligious Dialogue. (See Review.) Brother David is a Benedictine monk at Mount Saviour Monastery in upstate New York. He is a writer and founder of gratefulness.org. This quotation was the thought for today and it is significant, because listening is certainly important in relationships of all kinds. 

I am very excited that New York Times bestselling author, Mark Nepo, has a new book, Seven Thousand Ways to Listen: Staying Close to What's Sacred. He is the subject of a news article here in Southwest Michigan because he will be hosting several events around this book. You can read about the book, see the schedule of events, and enjoy a brief video interview. (See MI Live Interview. According to the article, Nepo points to great spiritual leaders of all faiths who receive information, reflect and then speak. In a telephone interview:

"Everybody is shouting over each other and very few people are really listening. In fact, silence is mistaken for uncertainty rather than true reflection."

I would like to think of myself as a good listener. And I do think listening is about more than just hearing words and other sounds. Listening is a whole-body habit. 

I have been thinking about listening a lot, especially as I am reading Wesley the Owl. I am very touched by Stacey O'Brien's sharing of her experience of raising Wesley, a barn owl. When you are reading, beyond the enjoyment of being able to witness the adventure through another's words, you are often transported into your own experience in ways that bring meaning. Perhaps that is what Brother David is writing about when he says your listening heart perceives meaning.

Although the following paragraph is about Stacey's experience with Wesley, and about birds of prey, see if you can identify people in your life who have needs like this:

Since owls don’t flock, herd, or pack, they have no social setup for correcting each other’s behavior. Therefore, Wesley had no way to interpret any act of aggression except as a threat on his life. For this reason, the number one rule in interacting with birds of prey is that you can never show them any aggression. You cannot try to discipline or correct them as you would a child or a dog. They would not understand it. I could never raise my voice or do anything that might seem at all aggressive, even when trying to stop Wesley from doing something for his own protection. I could only gently remove him from whatever situation was putting him or me in danger. Eventually, he might learn that a certain behavior wasn’t allowed, but not in the usual way. It took longer and required much more patience than the normal pet owner or parent is accustomed to.

Wesley the Owl, by Stacey O’Brien (p.72)

Today, as I read this, and I look forward to an evening with Mark Nepo, it is my intention to listen in the way that will allow me to have the sort of patience with my world that Stacey had with Wesley.Even when I am listening to my own inner being...