Tag Archives: joy

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quiet

Blogging from A to Z, the letter Q.

When do you feel quiet?

I feel quiet walking in the woods or on the beach. There is a path through the woods two blocks from me. It is only one block long. But my heart immediately quiets when I go there, even for just that block. Last time I walked though it, a young wild rabbit froze to hide. He was right by the path and perfectly visible. I stopped and waited a little and then walked forward. He panicked when I got close and dived for the briars.

My yard quiets my heart: trees and flowers. (Except when I notice that I should mow again.) The sky, the clouds, the stars all quiet me.

Yesterday a friend asks, “Do you think life is hard?”

“Yes,” I say, “I think it’s often hard but beautiful too.”

The photograph is from Deception Pass, about a month ago. Moss and rocks quiet my heart too.

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nasty

For the Blogging from A to Z, my theme is Virtues and views: two lists of seven virtues, but my goal is to write about emotions. Could feeling nasty ever be a virtue?

Have you ever felt nasty? Have you called someone else a nasty person? Have you ever felt that you behaved in a nasty way? And what did you mean by nasty?

Again, here are definitions from Dictionary.com and from Webster 1913. The definition changes over time.

Webster 1913 from https://everything2.com/title/Nasty

Nas”ty (?), a. [Compar. Nastier (); superl. Nastiest.] [For older nasky; cf. dial. Sw. naskug, nasket.]

1. Offensively filthy; very dirty, foul, or defiled; disgusting; nauseous.

2. Hence, loosely: Offensive; disagreeable; unpropitious; wet; drizzling; as, a nasty rain, day, sky.

3. Characterized by obcenity; indecent; indelicate; gross; filthy.

Syn. — Nasty, Filthy, Foul, Dirty. Anything nasty is usually wet or damp as well as filthy or dirty, and disgusts by its stickness or odor; but filthy and foul imply that a thing is filled or covered with offensive matter, while dirty describes it as defiled or sullied with dirt of any kind; as, filthy clothing, foul vapors, etc.

http://www.dictionary.com/browse/nasty

adjective, nastier, nastiest.
1. physically filthy; disgustingly unclean:
a nasty pigsty of a room.
2. offensive to taste or smell; nauseating.
3. offensive; objectionable:
a nasty habit.
4. vicious, spiteful, or ugly:
a nasty dog; a nasty rumor.
5. bad or hard to deal with, encounter, undergo, etc.; dangerous; serious:
a nasty cut; a nasty accident.
6. very unpleasant or disagreeable:
nasty weather.
7. morally filthy; obscene; indecent:
a nasty word.

noun, plural nasties.
9. Informal. a nasty person or thing.

I took the photograph in the evening on the beach, with a gorgeous front and the mountains taking turns being lit by the evening. Is the rain nasty weather or is it the spring coming and bringing flowers? Do you celebrate “nasty” weather? Some days I do….

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just

Justice is one of the Seven Virtues, from one of two lists. This is one of the four cardinal virtues extolled by Aristotle and Plato. Do you feel just?

Just from dictionary.com

adjective

1. guided by truth, reason, justice, and fairness:

We hope to be just in our understanding of such difficult situations.

2. done or made according to principle; equitable; proper:

a just reply.

3. based on right; rightful; lawful:

a just claim.

4. in keeping with truth or fact; true; correct:

a just analysis.

5. given or awarded rightly; deserved, as a sentence, punishment, or reward:

a just penalty.

6. in accordance with standards or requirements; proper or right:

just proportions.
7. (especially in Biblical use) righteous.
It is also an adverb.
This is from the list that does not match to the Seven Sins. Is being just a value for you, a virtue? And if so, which meaning? One person can be talking about the law while another is talking about fairness and they can be taking opposite sides. Would you say that you are a just person? And again, which meaning has the highest value for you?
Blogging from A to Z: the letter J. Last year: J is for Joy.
I took the photograph in 2009 at the National Junior Synchronized Swimming competition. We hope that judging is just and fair and the rules are applied in sports and by the legal system.

 

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new growth

I’ve been thinking about the A to Z challenge again. I did it last year, with 7 sins and friends. I wrote about an emotion each day…. and I planned to do it this year starting with the 7 virtues. Bet you can’t name as many virtues as sins…. though I don’t think any of the emotions are sins. They are part of us. They are part of the way we respond to the world and survive. We have to learn to pay attention to them and not label any of them as negative or bad. We cannot excise grief or fear or anger from our psyche and remain human. Instead we need to learn to be curious about each emotion….

…..and there has been a shift in my life, three parts all shifting at once, this week. It is very odd to have all three go at once. I may leave the virtues until next year, because this sudden freedom is strange, peculiar, unfamiliar…. I need to expand in it and explore it….

New growth….

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Wellness

What is wellness and what is illness?

Many of the people that I see in clinic want healing. But healing is complicated. Many people define healing as “I want to be the way I was six years ago when I felt good.”

I delve into the time when they felt good. Sometimes when I start asking about it, they were very busy. Often very stressed. Often not paying attention to their own care, caring for someone else, a parent, a child, a partner. Or overworking with great intensity. “But I could do it!” they say, “I didn’t feel bad!”

…Maybe not. But the self care was deferred. The body struggled on as best it could, absorbing trauma after trauma, being ignored until a tipping point was reached. Then the switch was thrown and the system crashed…

When my sister died of cancer at 49, the family fought. Lawsuits. I promptly crashed and was out sick for two months. I nearly died too, of sepsis. I thought, I’m not going to be that stupid again. Well, except I was. My father died fourteen months after my sister and I was executor, dealing with a 1979 will. I was sure that I would be sued. I did not cut back work and I didn’t rest. I worked on the estate and cried, evenings and weekends.

After a year, I crashed again. Sepsis, again. I did not die, but this time I was out for ten months and then had to work half time for ten months. And I thought, oh, am I stupid or what? I didn’t take time off when my father died. I just pulled my boots up and kept working, two jobs. Executor and physician.

I made the rounds of specialists. I coughed for six months. Pulmonary. My lungs were slowly improving, very slowly. My muscles were lagging: neurology said they would get better. “When?” I said. “We don’t know,” said the neurologist, grinning. “I hate doctors,” I said. He laughed. On to Ear, nose and throat, then Asthma/Allergy, then Infectious Disease. “We don’t know how to keep you from getting it again.” says the Infectious Disease specialist cheerfully. “No idea.”

Back to work. Half time for ten months. And now my new “full time”. My goal is not to work more than forty hours a week. I spend 4.5-5 hours seeing patients and 3 hours reading and making decisions about labs, specialist notes, ER notes, inpatient notes, pharmacy notes, garbage from insurance companies, medicare’s new and improved impossible rules, continuing medical education, pathology reports, notes from patients and phone calls. And then I go home.

I would have qualified for a diagnosis of chronic fatigue six months into the illness. I didn’t seek it because I didn’t care. I was quite certain that I would get better, though I didn’t know how long it would take. I was quite certain that I would have to behave differently or I would crash again. If I get it again, I don’t think I will be able to do medicine and I like doing medicine. Also, if I get it again, there is a 28-50% mortality rate. Not good odds. So I need to pay attention, rest when the stress reaches the level of stupid, and take care of myself.

It is now thirty months since I got sick. I do actually feel like my muscles are back to normal. My lungs aren’t quite. I can tell when I play the flute that there is some scarring, after three bad pneumonias. But I can play and sing and I am slowly getting back to shape.

But note: I am NOT going back to where I was. I am paying attention. I am changing my job and my life so that I stay healthier. I am not returning to unhealthy levels of work and stress. And if stress in my personal life flips to high, I take time off from work. I have to, to stay healthy.

When I meet a new patient, the ones that are hardest to help are the ones who want to turn back the clock. They want the exact same life back that crashed them. The life that they got sick in. Think of a veteran getting blown up: we don’t expect them to be the same. Think of my 90 year old patient who went through both brain and heart surgery. He was better. He was able to hunt again which was his goal. But he said, “You have not made me feel that I am 20 again.” I laughed and said “And I am not going to. Talk to your higher power.” He was teasing me, but he was also acknowledging that his body and his endurance and his health at 90 was different than at age 20.

We need a new paradigm of wellness. Wellness is not staying the same for one’s entire life. You will not be 20 for 70 years. Wellness is changing as your life changes and paying attention to what you and others need. Wellness is accepting illness and deciding how our life needs to be changed to be well.

I took the photograph of Mount St Helen’s five years ago. The mountain changed too, as we all do.

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Sending love

Sometimes I wake in the morning, muscles tight and anxious.

This morning I dreamed that I was a teen, going on a trip. I packed my sleeping bag and the new pad. I finally bought a new inflatable pad for camping, last year. I still have my old one, patched and 30 years old and thin. I decided that I am old and stiff enough to have a newer one. I used it for the first time in the tree house. Yoga mat, pad and sleeping bad and I was warm. In the dream that was all I had time to pack: no clothes or books. There was barely room for that. I was worried about the trip and afraid.

When I wake anxious and feeling attacked, I send love. I send love to the people that I am finding most difficult in my life. A family member who with their spouse, have been mean since I was a teen. Not a family member any more: a blood relative, now. I will choose who is family and who is just a blood relative. In the manner of children of alcoholics, this is a terribly slow process. Raised in addiction and enabling, children love their parents anyhow, and it is a slow adult process to learn that love is not addiction, enabling nor enmeshment.

So I send love: may this person be peaceful. May this person be free. May this person be filled with loving kindness. May this person be safe. I send them loving kindness, especially if they are a blood relative who is still cruel. I don’t want them in my life any more and yet I want to forgive them. Forgive but not reconcile, if they are still in the dire pattern. No reconciliation if they continue the behavior.

Sending love.

Sweet Honey in the Rock: In the morning when I rise: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZAJBZXIzKcY

I took the photograph of my mother in the early 1980s. I borrowed my first real camera and took one roll. I scanned this today and my scanner is not up to the detail, but I like the abstraction. I love this photograph of my mother because it is her thinking and concentrating expression.

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Watercolor

This is for the Daily Post Prompt: retreat.

I have been changing the art in my clinic with the seasons. This is by my mother, Helen Burling Ottaway, and is currently up in the clinic. This is her largest watercolor, of the Olympic Mountains, painted in the last few years of her life.

A retreat into beauty….