By Debra Basham, on January 8, 2016
When I found out I was going to be a grandma, I went kicking and screaming. I was only 39 years old, and I was way too busy to be a grandmother.
Everything changed 26 years ago today, when I held Bradley Joseph Zelenak for the first time. He truly is an “Angel Baby!”
“Hi, I’m your Gammie,” slipped off my tongue like velvet when his newborn eyes looked into mine, and the euphemism “Gammie” stuck. To this day, all three of my grandchildren, plus many others who know me as their grandmother call me Gammie.
It is not uncommon to resist some of the best things life is bringing our way. Perhaps that is because we truly do not recognize the blessings until we have received them.
For sure, being Gammie has been (and is) one of my greatest joys.
I will try to remember you can welcome what you resist. Great things come in small packages!
By Debra Basham, on December 27, 2015
The idea of meaningful gifts has been on my mind and in my heart for a good long while. December 13, 2015, I shared a talk about the subject when I was guest speaker at Pilgrim Congregational Church. As usual, none of my pre-thinking did anything to inoculate me from enough tears to sink a battleship over the exchange of v-e-r-y meaningful gifts with family on Christmas day.
I love that our daughter and her kids draw names and make hand-crafted gifts. Witnessing this exchange has been such a joy in the past, last Christmas we decided to get in on the fun this year. A few of the truly remarkable gifts from this year included: arm-knitted infinity scarfs; a metal American flag; personalized bulletin board; a kitchen herb garden; colorful crayon art; and a year of monthly snacks!
For six-weeks this past summer I attended Write2TheEnd focused on learning self-publishing skills. I was combining skill development with the creation of my gift for grandson, Bradley—a book of memories!
Beyond my wildest imagination, Bradley was at the same time creating an audio of words of love and affirmation from family and friends he put over special relaxation music, including some by my dear friend Pamela Chappell.
I loved each contribution, and I love every one of you who helped make this very meaningful gift. I hope you will enjoy Grandson Adam’s words (based on the second “M” in G-A-M-M-I-E):
My Gammie, My Grandmother, My Hero, My Role Model, My Go-To, My Advice Giver, My Friend, My Family, My Guardian, My Laughter, My Fat Camp Instructor, My World Traveler, My Picture Taker, My Massage Therapist, My Healing Touch, My Counselor, My Helping Hand, My Sous Chef, My Cinnamon Toast Maker, My Supporter, My Biggest Fan, My Moon, My Red Balloon, My Minister, My Mentor, My Author, My One and Only Gammie.
OK, I admit I cried so hard my eyes hurt as I opened my heart and let the love flow in. Fortunately, we recognize how cathartic tears can be.Thank you, everyone, for giving and receiving truly meaningful gifts!
(You might appreciate knowing Bradley and I giving these gifts to one another this year was a total “God-thing.” I did not draw Brad’s name, nor did he draw mine! We each ended up with the others name because two other family members initiated a trade. The resulting in our having this magical opportunity to express our deepest love for one another.)
By Debra Basham, on December 14, 2015
OMG – I just finished listening to Marie Forleo’s interview with Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love. In the interview, Gilbert is talking about Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear. As a writer, I want to steal so many of her lines, but as a human being with a past littered with broken dreams, and crippled by feelings of failure, I want to curl up in her message and suck my thumb.
Ten years ago this month, we closed the doors at the Holistic Alliance. I knew letting that dream of a holistic center here in my home town of Saint Joseph, Michigan, go had been horribly painful, but I realized listening to Elizabeth that I had let what she calls the “murderer of all good things” stop me in my tracks: perfectionism.
Gilbert called perfectionism a serial killer, saying it goes around killing joy, spontaneity, wonder, grace, and humility. She said perfectionism is fear in high-heeled shoes….
I wonder what I would have written had I been blogging at that time of my life. Something therapeutic occurs when you put your innermost tender parts out there for the world to witness.
It is much different to suck your thumb in public.
After listening to the interview, I asked Joel (Joel Bowman is the co-creator of Subtle Communication Systems) if Big Magic had helped him forgive us for not having our dreams for SCS come true. His reply was somewhat sobering: “I never had a sense of blame for SCS. My blame is more for things I haven’t tried, or perhaps what we haven’t tried, rather than things we did that didn’t succeed.”
Gilbert said all love eventually becomes help and quoted her own mother’s advice: “Done is better than good.”
Today, with Big Magic, I am more courageous about looking back. The dream of weaving together the threads of body, mind, and spirit is still alive in my heart—and every day you can look around in the world and see how much progress has been made. Fortunately, hearts only break in one direction: open.
My heart is more open to celebrating each and every one of the many who came through the doors at 100 Church Street and found something meaningful there. I am thinking about those who studied energy medicine and the power of language with Joel and me. I love you all.
I vow to let my heart once again have wings and I am willing to stand tall and dance again with inspiration. Lets see what comes from that in the coming year. And so it is…
By Debra Basham, on December 5, 2015
Time is such an odd commodity. Some moments seem like days, and some years seem like moments. Without a doubt, my heart is tender right now with the passing of so many of late.
This morning, I posted a controversial commercial on Facebook about an elder man who faked his death to get his family all together for Christmas. You can take a look and decide for yourself if you think it extreme, cruel, or crazy, but making time to be with those you care about is none of these—it is vital.
This month a term insurance policy I have had for over a decade has ended and the cost of the coverage has skyrocketed. I remember thinking last year, “If I am going to die soon, let it be while we have this policy in force.” Now, looking at the options, determining if it makes sense to pay this higher rate to keep the coverage, I said, “We know for sure we will collect at some point. Let’s pay the premium.”
I am not depressed in the face of all of the recent losses. If anything, the losses have allowed me to be more aware of the gift of each moment. The taste of my favorite tea, crawling into a warm bed, the smell of a busy kitchen—these each feel like precious opportunities given for me to savor.
If we were looking at chakra development, you might say we are intimately aware of the seventh chakra: the Crown. In, Anatomy of the Spirit, Caroline Myss writes: “Live in the Present Moment.” Myss says this is the chakra of the spirit: extreme unction, Keter. We need to be open and attentive to the constant guidance we receive each day.
Rabbi Moshe Cordovero, in The Palm Tree of Devorah, writes: “One’s thoughts should be pure, one’s forehead should display no harshness, one’s ears should always turn to hear good, one’s eyes should distance themselves from noticing evil, always looking at the good, one’s nose should be free from the breath of anger, one’s face should always shine, and his mouth should express nothing except good.”
When is this guidance not appropriate? Goodness, it seems we want to honor this energy every day of our lives. Of course, it may take facing the sunset of life to remember how important letting our face shine each day of our lives actually is….
By Debra Basham, on November 27, 2015
“It is the best of times, it is the worst of times.”
This Thanksgiving I am aware of so many families finding gratitude amidst deep emotions: emotions related to loved ones having passed on since last year at this time. For some of us, the transition has been quite recent.
Just yesterday, our beloved Aunt Marge joined all those we love whom are now in spirit. I am remembering so many fun times with her over the years. These photos are of Marge, and her husband, Al, over the span of their years together.
All emotions are said to come from past similar events. My heart has certainly been aware of that as one of our new grand kitties we just met this week has been under the weather. Thor, and Butter (he was named Buttercup when assumed to be a girl) were orphaned when their mom died a couple weeks after they were born. Bottle fed, these sweet fur babies certainly enjoy being with humans.
Here they are with my husband on our arrival to their house on Tuesday. Thor is on his back.
Not wanting to cause alarm, but concerned that Thor’s eye was red and had some discharge, Wednesday evening we called the vet. The office was closed, but Thanksgivingmorning Thor was seen at the 24-hour emergency vet service.
Almost forty-five years ago, we lost a young ginger-colored kitten just a few weeks after she joined our family. It was not immediately clear to me if the concern I felt for Thor was warranted as memories of our previous loss came flooding back in spades.
Those “past similars” related to our emotions are not just limited to kittens.
I am thankful for the competent care Thor received this morning by compassionate, skillful personal who were spending their Thanksgiving Day taking care of animals in need. I am optimistic Thor will be feeling better tomorrow. For now, I am grateful for an amazing message from Patricia Cota Robles, following the transition of her brother, Jimmy.
JIMMY’S PRESENCE
On this very special day when we are gathered together to Celebrate Jimmy’s Life, I assure you he is with us. He is flooding each of us with his Love, and he is expressing his deep Gratitude for having all of us in his life.
One of the hardest things about someone leaving as unexpectedly as Jimmy did is that we feel there are things we wanted to say to him, but now we think it is too late. The wonderful thing we are learning from people who have been through NDEs {near death experiences} is that is absolutely NOT TRUE. So let’s just take a moment and from the deepest recesses of our hearts let’s say to Jimmy anything we want to say to him on this very special day.
Please breathe in deeply and go within to the Divinity of your heart. If you feel comfortable doing so, gently close your eyes. In your mind’s eye see that beautiful big man standing before you with his wonderful smile. Now from the silence of your heart, tell him exactly what you want him to know at this time. I promise you, he will hear every single word. (Pause)
Now gently return your consciousness to the room and KNOW that communicating with Jimmy or any of your Loved Ones on the other side is just this easy. I will do what Patricia suggests. In my mind’s eye, I will imagine Ginger Kitty helping our young Thor recover. I will think of Al welcoming Marge.
I will breathe deeply and express Thanksgiving for all those on the other side who are sharing love with us here today.
By Debra Basham, on November 14, 2015
The worst terroristattack on a Western city since 9/11 unfolded in France on Friday, leaving the nation in a state of near-martial law.
This text message exchange with a dear friend:
K: Are you watching the news of Paris?
D: No, I just walked in the door from a session. What’s going on?
K: Multiple terrorist attacks on-going. City is in lock down.
D: May all beings come to the end of suffering.
K: Pray hard. I had to stop watching. Every minute more violence is reported.
D: Do you know how to do Tonglen? I just emailed directions.
From Joan Halifax’s handout on Tonglen, sent to my friend:
In order to give no fear, we must first learn to relate with our own suffering—our rage, helplessness, frustration, doubt, bitterness, and fear—instead of pushing it away. Gentle loving-kindness toward ourselves is what it takes to be present for our own suffering. We need to learn to stay with our own suffering without trying to change it or fix it. Only when we are able to be present for our own suffering are we able to be present for the suffering of others.
In January, 2012, I wrote about having done Tonglen after we witnessed my grandson crash his go-kart at over ninety miles per hour at Daytona. (See: Deep Gratitude.)
While this is not the first blog post in which I have mentioned the practice of Tonglen, it might be the most urgent. We must look from a place within that includes suffering but that is bigger than suffering. We must look from a heart that is so big that it is open to everything, including freedom from suffering.
- Begin by breathing in whatever you are feeling—fear, agitation, anger, resistance—and accepting it. On the exhalation breathe out well-being. Clear your mind by bringing awareness to what is agitating you and breathing it in, accepting it with kindness. Then, as you exhale, give yourself some spaciousness. Do this breath practice until you are calm and alert.
- When you feel settled, begin the second stage of the practice, which is establishing a rhythm of breathing. On your inbreath imagine that you are inhaling heavy, hot air. On your outbreath visualize exhaling cool, light air. Continue with this pattern—breathing in heaviness and breathing out lightness—until it is familiar to you. The heaviness is suffering; the lightness is well-being.
- Now imagine that you are breathing through all the pores of your body. On the inbreath heavy, hot air enters every pore. On the outbreath, cool light flows from every pore.
- Now visualize a metal sheath around your heart. This metal sheath is everything about you that is difficult for you to accept: your self-importance, selfishness, self-cherishing, self-pity. It is the band of fear that hardens your heart. The practice invites you to dissolve this metal sheath and open your heart to its natural nonjudgmental state of warmth, kindness, and spaciousness. You can do this by visualizing the metal sheath breaking apart when the inbreath of suffering touches it. When the heart opens, the hot, heavy air vanishes into its vast space. What arises is natural mercy. It is this quality of unarmored heart that allows you to be with suffering and at the same time to see beneath the suffering.
We must stay present with the suffering, bringing the sweet salve of breath to the unthinkable. We can imagine the terror in Paris tonight. Because we can imagine that, we can feel it, and we do not have to add our fear to the situation. By the grace of the divine, let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me…. and you, and you, and you.
By Debra Basham, on November 6, 2015
Regular readers of this blog are not unfamiliar with my practice of going on silent meditation retreats, as I was blessed to do October 27-November 1. What a perfect timing for a much needed renewal on the heels of the transition of my mother-in-law on October 4, followed by the preparation for and execution of a family-run estate sale on October 22, 23, and 24 (See Musings from an Estate Sale).
I was the guest minister at Unity on the Lakeshore (Listen to: Celebrations of Life) in Douglas on Sunday, October 25, did laundry and packed on Monday, and departed for Selma, Indiana, on Tuesday morning.
The retreat was held at Oakwood Retreat Center, and the language on their website is as inviting as the space itself: “Whatever your practice, path or modality, Oakwood Retreat Center is a place you can call Home…. a sacred space filled with encouragement and permission to take that next step in the journey…. a unique venue where you may freely participate in creative and transformational work within a nurturing and supportive atmosphere.”
A bit more from the website: “Oakwood Community is the current manifestation of a passion to offer the world a place where loving-kindness prevails, a place where the spirit of the womb is held safe and unconditionally present.”
What would allow all human beings to live these values? Can you imagine moving in a world where every acre and every being is recognized as a sacred space filled with encouragement? Perhaps time on retreat is designed to remind us to open our eyes and ears and enjoy the beauty of this life all around us.
My pillows (brought with me from home) were clothed in cases from mom, plus the snuggly blanket I tucked myself in with each night had also been one of her favorites. The earrings I wore the last day had been mom’s as well, and on Sunday morning I shared with the group my experiences of loss and love.
Some of the instruction was related to the importance of our learning to not cling or grasp as preparation of our final letting go—the dissolution of our physical bodies and our reemergence into the stream of divine consciousness. This morning (obviously still processing the retreat) I awoke from this dream:
I’m with several people and some sort of phenomena begins to happen. A “guide” is explaining to us how whatever we fear is coming into our life! I know immediately as we get into a vehicle, one of my fears is drowning.
Sure enough, we are immediately plunged into water and the vehicle starts filling up. I know instinctively if I don’t relax completely, I will die. I am able to relax and slow my breathing. I feel the water come all the way up my body and over my head. Instantly, the water is gone, and I’m not even wet.
In the next scene, a woman friend and I go up to the attic to spend the night to face our fear. We are lying down on a futon in the middle of the room. When we turn off the light, four heavy hands clamp down my shoulders and ankles. I try to speak to say that I’m experiencing phenomenon but I have no voice! It is terrifying, but, again I am able to calm myself and the phenomenon passes.
It was after six when I looked at the clock, so I got up. As I was sitting on the toilet recalling the details of the dream, I heard the phrase, “While you are in this life, it is all phenomena!”
May everyone everywhere remember….
By Debra Basham, on October 25, 2015
It is almost incomprehensible that three weeks ago today mom was with us. She was having a rough day, but lovely moments of connection amidst the breathing challenges. Now, what had been her worldly belongings have been given new life.
The items had been displayed with care, and the lights were on when we opened the door to friends, neighbors, relatives, and some who came in as strangers and left as friends.
Tonight, we received an e-card from a friend expressing sympathy. Writing back, I mentioned that I still use the tea cozy, crock pot, and card table that had come from her mother’s estate more than a decade ago.
After Carol’s husband died, she insisted on paying fifty dollars to mail multiple pairs of her late husband’s shoes to us (here in Michigan), all the way from Arizona. Although not often anymore, when we do talk on the phone, she asks, “Is John still walking in Dan’s shoes?” The answer is yes. I now understand why that is so important to her.
Our mom’s yarn went to ladies at the hospital who knit caps for babies and blankets for elderly patients. Her unfinished quilt (with pins sticking out like a porcupine quills) was purchased by a woman who lives here in Michigan to be mailed to a sister, who would finish it. Her loop rug loom was donated to the senior center. Her baking pans went to the nursing home for the baking circle. Her pillow case went to a woman whose friend makes dresses for girls in Africa. Her fabric when to a woman who makes doll clothes. A newly-divorced dad will now put his daughter’s clothing in her dresser drawers.
“All these years I was friends with the boys, and I was never in this house….”
” I always wanted to look out from the bay window…”
“This house reminds me of my grandmother’s…”
Her clothing was donated to her church emergency closet and a local nonprofit. Her jewelry is now being worn by others. Her rings now slip on to other fingers. Her watches sit on other wrists to keep them on time.
Friends will watch her windmill turn. Grandchildren of friends will now rock in the little chairs she helped build. Her Christmas lights will be strung in homes we have never seen. Friends will be picking up her forks, and spoons, and knifes. A nephew will light her kerosene lamps when his power is out. Even the spices from her cupboards will be blended by other hands in other kitchens. Will the vanilla go into banana bread? Perhaps….
And her records—hundreds of vinyl records! The woman who will dance to them has become a friend. I now know where she lives, and I know why she came to the sale. “For years, I drove by and saw the white-haired lady. The yard was always so immaculate. At first, I would see her bent over the flower beds. She always had decorations out. The goose with outfits for each season! The past few years, I would not see her out in the yard, but she would be in the living room, looking out the bay window.”
So many sweet new memories that would have been missed if we had not handled her estate sale ourselves.
“When I read about her estate sale and that she had passed, I could have died. I had to come by and get a few trinkets to remember her…”
Her unused bedspreads, unopened sheets, and towels not yet turned into crafts now belong to someone else. All the things she treasured are now bringing others pleasure.
“When I play her records, I will think about you all…”
Her plastic shopping bags not cut into strips (three-and-one-half-inches-wide) to be made into mats for the homeless have been deposited in the collection center at the grocery store.
I am so grateful to each person who has helped us continue the celebration of her life.
Last night, I made corn bread in her cast iron tins.
Tonight, I will put her chap stick on my lips. Tomorrow, I will wear her sweatshirt. And forever we will all be changed by her having moved from this world to the next.
By Debra Basham, on October 16, 2015
Sharing with a friend about the huge task of sorting, cleaning, organizing, and preparing my mother-in-law’s home full of personal belongings following her passing from this life, his response was, “I would hope I would have sufficient warning to take care of things.”
I understand his hope, but I also think it is something I want to deal with sooner rather than later. While I might not consciously aspire to acquire, we are all products of that post-depression generation and we have w-a-y t-o-o m-u-c-h stuff.
After spending a week working so hard that I have ended up walking like my MIL did at 92, this morning our book club opened up Brené Brown’s Daring Greatly: How the Courage to be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, and Lead to this heading: The Source of Scarcity. “Scarcity doesn’t take hold in a culture overnight. But the feeling of scarcity does thrive in shame-prone cultures that are deeply steeped in comparison and fractured by disengagement.”
How many pairs of knee-hi hose is enough? How long should one keep a half-finished craft item one has not touched in a decade? Will one wear a dozen watches? Does one need three closets full of clothes? Please don’t judge her harshly. This is about most Americans, for sure. I know the pattern to the bean bag chair I made 35 years ago is still here in my house. I can guarantee you I would never make another. Why hold on to what is not needed?
I am hanging out this dirty laundry in hopes we can all recover from the deep insecurity that had us hanging on to things. I am not talking about tossing out the truly significant items we might consciously want to preserve. That attitude is healthy. Our habits toward acquisition are not.
Matthew 6:19-20
19“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20“But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal;…
Anatole France said it best, “It is good to collect things, but it is better to go on walks.”
We cannot take it with us.
As soon as my knee recovers, I am going to choose one room per month to purge. We can take a lesson from the Tiny House Nation and clear each room of all but the necessities.
We can pretend we have died and are sorting out only those things that are worthy of passing along. While at it, we can also be clearing out old attitudes, beliefs, and behaviors….
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| My sister-in-law and I rewired this little lamp for mom last May. She had just come home from the hospital with hospice care. She loved using it for a night light. It is now in my family room. |
By Debra Basham, on October 7, 2015
Was I being intuitively guided when I purchased a ten-pound-spiral-cut ham on Saturday afternoon? All I knew in consciousness was that she said she was hungry for my ham and broccoli quiche. Little did I know that ham (and the quiche) would be used to provide nourishment for my brothers- and sisters-in-law over the next few days as we said our final goodbye to the woman who has been my mother-in-law for almost fifty years.
Fried potatoes, beans and ham, southern cornbread… We have joked about my channeling my “Inner Martha” as I cooked and served and cleaned up the kitchen. (See Luke 10{38-42) Of course, I recognize how each of us offers nourishment to one another in our own unique way, and I know this was Seva Practice for me.
When she was discharged from the hospital in May of this year, her goal was to get better and ”graduate” off hospice care. If sheer will could have brought that forth, she would have succeeded. Although that was not to be, she certainly squeezed every succulent moment out of her last months of life.
While she did not dance, she was able to attend the wedding of her great grandson in May. A few weeks later, her church celebrated her 92nd birthday, and she went to lunch with four of her five sons and wives. An afternoon visit with her 96 year-old sister-in-law who lives out of state delighted them both as they put aside their walkers to stroll down memory lane.
When her first cousin and his wife celebrated their 60thwedding anniversary, she was there to enjoy the worship service and the delicious brunch.
One week later, she is free from the body that could no longer sustain life.
We had several nights of little-to-no sleep, and I went to bed exhausted last night after a long day of meeting with the pastor, having visitation at the funeral home, going out to dinner with the brothers and families, and then hungry for connections, sharing with my own beloved daughter and my three grands who came for the funeral.
Finding myself wide awake, it is now 4:00 am and I am tucked in my bathroom, sitting on the toilet seat, with my hungry fingers being satiated in their familiar home on the keyboard.
This column cannot contain the depth of our family’s gratitude for our local Hospice at Home, and I am sure there will be more writing about that. For now, I will close with the words of the late (great) Wayne Dyer:” Follow your excitement. For me it’s writing. I know that I’m fulfilling a dharma.”
RIP Eleanor Basham. Your legacy lives on….
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