By Debra Basham, on December 20, 2014
It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words: certainly true about this revised holiday to-do list. Your priorities are set straight with such simple shifts of awareness. The first one (Be Present) reminds me of our relationship with our grandchildren. They do not expect presents from us. EVER. They see us as grandparents for whom presence is the priority.
Sending peace certainly is appropriate right now. The news is filled with opportunities.
This year, putting people first seems especially significant as so many are in so much pain. Some are experiencing serious illness, others have lost loved ones. One of my nephews is in prison; another is gradually putting his life back together by getting sober.
Most days my heart feels like it is breaking open. Everywhere I look I see treasures. Some of those treasures are material: a safe home, a beautiful new office space that I share with my sister, and a new bed! More meaningful than words are the relationships with family, friends, my spiritual community, and co-workers.
A special friend said she realized if her life were to end right now, she would know she had experienced a wonderful life. I think you understand that feeling. She went on to tearfully say she is not ready to die, and as a cancer survivor, she is now living her life more fully.
Each day, it is good to remember, thing nothing lasts forever. Not buildings nor bodies. Perhaps the precious, sacred, temporary nature of everything is what allows you to value it all as gift. Makes me want to wrap my beloved in a hug.
May all beings find peace. Especially now….
Today
Today I am aware I am here
May I be here
May I be aware
May I make today worth living
Tomorrow may bring unwanted changes
Or dreams come true
One thing is certain, though,
Our world is blessed by YOU
Today
By Debra Basham, on December 9, 2014
You can close your eyes to reality, but not to memories.
~ Stanislaw Jerzy Lec
Cleaning out my cupboard where I keep scarves and jewelry was the way I spent a few hours this afternoon. I slowly turned a pair of clip-on earrings and a broach that belonged to my mom over and over in my hand before getting a thin piece of sticky paper and writing her name on them. At some point, I will not be here and I wanted to be sure someone would know these items had been hers, and thus meant a lot to me.
A classic mood ringfrom the 80’s was ceremoniously slipped onto my little finger as I continued sorting and organizing. I let my mind drift back through my yesteryears. Yes, memories are connected to our things, but it is not the things that really matter. That lesson came vividly to my mind a few days ago when I received a call from a woman who had lost her wedding rings and wondered if hypnosis might help her find them. As we talked about possible outcomes, she agreed that the rings are symbolic of what she values: the love and connection with her husband.
Matthew 6:19 (Christian New Testament) addresses the difference between the things and what has real value: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.” The love and connection cannot be stolen or lost. Those are still there, wherever her rings are!
The rune symbols on this special pair of earrings gifted to me by my business partner, Joel, spoke clearly to my heart. I remembered how runic alphabets were commonly used in Germanic languages before the Latin alphabet was adopted. Today, rune stones are used as a form of divination. Asking a question and letting the symbolism answer can allow you to gain significant insight. Many of my journal entries over the past years as Joel and I wrote and taught and worked diligently to serve humanity together have included a rune drawing.
This friendship bracelet was a gift to me from my childhood friend (Connie Churchill) for my twelfth birthday. Even though 1962 was a very long time ago, and I do not wear them now, the bracelet, mood ring, and rune earrings are all nestled carefully back into the old wooden jewelry box my dad gave me for Christmas when I was a child.
Each of these items is highly symbolic of valuable love and connections.
For that love and those connections, I remain deeply grateful….
You can tell by the bright blue of my mood ring!
By Debra Basham, on December 3, 2014
“It is not joy that makes us grateful; it is gratitude that makes us joyful.”
I heard this pithy quotation attributed to Brené Brown, but it actually came from Gratefulfness, The Heart of Prayer by Brother David Steindl-Rast, and it is part of a larger commentary:
Ordinary happiness depends on happenstance.
Joy is that extraordinary happiness that is independent of what happens to us.
Good luck can make us happy, but it cannot give us lasting joy.The root of joy is gratefulness. We tend to misunderstand the link between joy and gratefulness. We notice that joyful people are grateful and suppose that they are grateful for their joy.
But the reverse is true: their joy springs from gratefulness. If one has all the good luck in the world, but takes it for granted, it will not give one joy. Yet even bad luck will give joy to those who manage to be grateful for it.
We hold the key to lasting happiness in our own hands. For it is not joy that makes us grateful; it is gratitude that makes us joyful.
My mind goes immediately to a remarkable woman I know who has been on a marathon journey through cancer for close to a year now. Following an almost unbelievable surgical procedure in August, she has met one complication after another.
Sometimes it feels as though I am holding my breath waiting to hear an update from her.
When her updates come—along with the candid reports of the hurdles—I can hear her fears and frustrations and her hopes and dreams, but I also hear gratitude. Her heart has been broken open widely enough that her heart holds everything.
Her heart holds her desire to be there to see her daughter grow up.
Her open heart is the container for the things that used to seem so significant.
And joy is there in her heart, too; a product of her gratefulness.
From her most recent post: “On the positive side, I saw a cardiologist today. I had an echo-cardiogram done last week and it seems as though the pericardial effusion has now gone away. (That was the water around my heart). So that is good news. The cardiologist said if cancer was causing the effusions it would still be there. He believes it was the emboli in my lungs and now that they are under control, the effusion disappeared. I’ll take any win I can get!”
Woven within the pain and uncertainty of her human frailty is genuine gratitude for the love that is extended to her. Love comes from friends, family, co-workers. Most wondrously, love also flows freely from unnumbered strangers on prayer lists who do not even know her name or what city or state she lives in.
As I join that unending circle of love encircling her and all others who are navigating the turbulent waters of the human experience, I am reminded again to never underestimate the benefits of gratitude….
By Debra Basham, on November 23, 2014
Life literally hangs by a breath.
Breathe in.
After exhaling, consider the possibility that you might not be able to inhale again.
When breath no longer enters your body,
then your life span has ended, and you will die.
Say to yourself, “This life is fragile and completely dependent on my breath.”
From Being with Dying:
Cultivating Compassion and Fearlessness in the Presence of Death
by Joan Halifax
Well, she has worked very hard this past week, and we now have her Celebration of Life ceremony written. (See my previous post: Enjoy Your Journey.) She considers this her opportunity to get in the last word. I love her sense of humor, and I am deeply honored to have been invited into the intimate spaces of her heart and mind. I, too, feel a sense of satisfaction with our co-creation. Now we wait, knowing that for each of us life literally hangs by a breath.
Since I have been visiting in her home with her, I now ask for dog biscuits at the drive-in window at the credit union. These treats are for her loyal four-legged friend. I am welcomed with a bark and an immediate expectancy of a treat. I think she welcomes me that way, too….
Baby boomers are now approaching end-of-life, and, as this bulge in human history we have the opportunity to shape the culture we were born into. Is it possible we can cultivate compassion and fearlessness in the presence of death? Perhaps it is not only possible, but also our destiny and our most sacred opportunity.
Conscious dying is the phrase most commonly used today. An essential element in conscious dying is learning to consciously live, and the earlier the better, but it is never too late to learn the truth that it’s OK.
The hospice doctors, nurses, and social workers asked him if he was afraid of death. He always said no; he was not afraid of death. It occurred to me that was not the right question.
I asked him, “Are you afraid of death?”
“No,” he responded.
“Are you afraid of dying?” I asked.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“What are you afraid of?” I continued.
“The unknown… the pain,” he stammered.
Steven Spiro, Buddhist chaplain and advocate of conscious dying, shares information on conscious dying and encourages us to imagine our own death in detail: where would you like to die; who would you want with you; who don’t you want to be there. I would add the phrase from Imagine Healing: Although it won’t happen exactly as you imagine it….
Spiro suggests we can make peace and practice conscious dying with the help of the phrases from Four Things That Matter Most: A Book About Living, by Ira Byrock, M.D.
“Please forgive me.”
“I forgive you.”
“Thank you.”
“I love you.”
Spiro wisely adds a fifth: “It’s OK.”
I breathe in and I think of the unknown facing me and all those I love. I breathe out and I think of the unknown facing her and all those she loves.
It’s OK. I have another serving of dog biscuits ready….
By Debra Basham, on November 15, 2014
The ringing of the doorbell was immediately greeted by fierce barking from inside the house. My visit was with a woman at home with hospice care. Waiting patiently my mind gently ran through options ranging from a forgotten appointment time to a crisis that had taken her from her home. Then I heard a distant voice telling me to come on in.
In spite of her frail body, I was greeted with warm and active eyes. Her very vocal companion let me know I best be coming as a friend….
The subject of life after death seemed to naturally weave itself into our sharing. The Hawk Visit is one story that often has relevance when we are musing about the after life. I mentioned that our book club is reading Proof of Heaven: A Neurosurgeon’s Journey into the Afterlife, by Eben Alexander.
I also shared two of my favorite quotations from Roadside Assistance for the Spiritual Traveler, by my friend Rabbi Rami Shapiro.
(November/December 2008)
What happens when I die?
Where does an ice cube go in a tub of warm water? You are the cube, God is the water. For a while you seem separate from the water, but eventually you melt – you die – and discover that you, too, are water. Have fun being a cube; just don’t forget that all cubes are water, and everything is God.
(January/February 2007)
Imagine that the universe is a rope and you, your mom, and all things are knots in that rope. Each knot is unique, and all knots are the rope. When we die our knot unties, but the rope that is our essence remains unchanged: we become what we already are.
Life after death is the same as life before death: the rope knotting and unknotting. The extent to which you identify with a knot is the extent to which you grieve over its untying. The extent to which you realize that the knot is the rope is the extent you can move through your grief into a sense of fearless calm.
For me, the rope is God, the source and substance of all reality. When your mom dies she relaxes into her true nature, and realizes who she always was and is: God. I believe this realization comes at death regardless of who we are or how we life.
She tires easily, so our precious time together for the day was coming to an end when she said, “It would be so much easier if I could trust that this dying leads to a good thing.”
I encouraged her to trust that our leaving our bodies is natural and safe by looking at nature. Every autumn the trees in Michigan let go of their leaves (I had keyed in lives) without fear of the future. Each spring new life breaks forth. I reminded her that everything is energy and the first law of physics is that energy can be neither created nor destroyed.
Later that same day, a friend came for dinner. After dinner she read to me a section of Choices: Taking Control of Your Life and Making it Matter, by Melody Beattie. My friend had randomly opened to this section earlier that morning, about the same time of my home visit:
The famous “Death and Dying” lady lay on the hospital bed in her living room. She couldn’t get up. A series of strokes—19 or more—had left her severely handicapped. Paralyzed on one side. It was morning. She was thirsty. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross said a quick prayer. “God, please send someone. A cup of tea would be so nice.”
(Melody describes how she came to be there that day, how she helped Elisabeth dress, and then made her a cup of tea.)
Elisabeth looked at me. “What do you want to ask me?”
Now it was my turn to clear my throat. “Do you really believe in life after death? Are you afraid of death, at least a little bit?” I asked.
Elisabeth laughed. “Didn’t you read my book, dear?” she said. “It’s not about believing. I know there’s life after death. Dying is the easy part. It’s life that’s hard.”
I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Thank you. And have a safe trip home.”
By Debra Basham, on November 4, 2014
Without sharing the others personal details, it is my hope through this blog post you will be able to have a sense of the depth of experience from the week-long retreat at Camp Geneva, in Holland.
Right there on the shores of Lake Michigan, every season was present—including sun and warmth and bitter wind and rain and snow! Every season of our innermost being was present, too. As magnificent as the physical setting was, the inner radiance was truly most beyond words.
The focus of the first two days was on conscious aging. We heard that the human life can be summed up this way: “Aging is from diapers to diapers. We start out needing help eating and walking, and we end up needing help eating and walking. Even with the best of planning, you have no control.”
Although our personal lives are filled with history, our inner being remains untouched by the ravages of past days and decades, allowing love to shine forth through those cracks and crevices. Sitting in meditation, you remember who you really are. You feel your heart open to divine love. Day after day we were each giving respect to and honoring our true essence. We had the opportunity to create our soul collage. It was truly a memorable experience.
We led one another in a trust walk, and we played a round of Jenga. The game has 54 blocks. The goal is to remove one block at a time and stack it on top. In the official game, the last player to stack a block on top without making the tower fall is the winner. The suspense builds and the tower keeps getting taller. Our instructions were to notice when our body would contract, and to remember to relax and truly enjoy the play.
My past work as a doula (childbirth coach) came in very handy as one of our group said she had always been called a Nervous Nelly. So she could relax and have fun, I kept reminding her to breathe and kept saying, “It is only a game. At some point it all falls down and we say yeah.” I had such fun with my two partners, Clare and Cathy!
If you let go a little, you will have a little peace.
If you let go a lot, you will have a lot of peace.
If you let go completely, you will have complete peace and freedom.
~ Ajahn Chah
By Debra Basham, on October 24, 2014
It was unlike any other Thursday eve, I will admit. On Thursday, October 23, 2014, I joined several friends from our women’s group—we call ourselves Lion-Hearted Women—for a fundraiser of the dramatic reading of “The Vagina Monologues” written by Eve Ensler.
Nothing I thought I knew about this production could have prepared me for how shocking the evening would be. My heart physically hurt as we heard about unforgivable acts of female genital mutilation (classified by the World Health Organization into four major types):
- Clitoridectomy: partial or total removal of the clitoris (a small, sensitive and erectile part of the female genitals) and, in very rare cases, only the prepuce (the fold of skin surrounding the clitoris).
- Excision: partial or total removal of the clitoris and the labia minora, with or without excision of the labia majora (the labia are “the lips” that surround the vagina).
- Infibulation: narrowing of the vaginal opening through the creation of a covering seal. The seal is formed by cutting and repositioning the inner, or outer, labia, with or without removal of the clitoris.
- Other: all other harmful procedures to the female genitalia for non-medical purposes, e.g. pricking, piercing, incising, scraping and cauterizing the genital area.
How can human beings do such horrible acts to innocent young women?
The whole thing was not so dark. I also laughed so hard my sides ached as one of our own Lion-Hearted Women was performing. My broken heart literally swelled back to life with pride to witness a woman with over nine decades of life experience as a woman proudly belting out a cacophony of moans. Most memorable for me are the African-American Moan, the Machine Gun Moan, and the Triple Orgasm Moan.
It would be an accurate confession to mention that I think every emotion I could have had was activated big time during those two hours. As someone who has been late coming to love my own body, I will always treasure the monologue about the woman who came to love her vagina as it was seen through the eyes of an ordinary man named Bob:
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “You’re elegant and deep and innocent and wild.”
“You saw that there?” I said.
It was like he read my palm.
“I saw that,” he said, “and more, much much more.”
He stayed looking for almost an hour as if he were studying a map, observing the moon, staring into my eyes, but it was my vagina. In the light I watched him looking at me and he was so genuinely excited, so peaceful and euphoric, I began to get wet and turned on. I began to see myself the way he saw me. I began to feel beautiful and delicious—like a great painting, or a waterfall. Bob wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t grossed out. (Excerpt from “The Vagina Monologues,” written by Eve Ensler.)
I do not share this detail of the presentation to be lewd or profane. I share it to encourage every woman (and every man) to view ourselves as sacred expressions of the divine. How much more respectful and joyful and kind and compassionate we can all be as we are able to do that. We can all learn that from Bob.
Genuine appreciation for the created can expand from one man seeing one body part of one woman to all humans seeing beauty in divinity everywhere we look.
Let’s start a new greeting that begins by looking (really, deeply, looking) and saying to one another: “You’re so beautiful. You’re elegant and deep and innocent and wild.”
Maybe this will help stop the violence against women (and men and wolves and trees)….
By Debra Basham, on October 14, 2014
Time is a trick, a sleight of hand, a vast illusion
in which figures come and go as if by magic.
Yet there is a plan behind appearances that does not change.
A Course in Miracles, Lesson 158
My first experience doing “hands-on healing,” was done as part of the service of Holy Communion in church—laying on of hands, anointing with oil, and offering prayers for healing of body, mind, and spirit.
For two decades I have worked full-time hoping to get Healing Touch™ and other natural healing into hospitals. Just recently I read a quotation from one of Plato’s dialogues, in which Socrates was quoting a Thracian doctor’s criticism of his Greek colleagues:
“This is the reason why the cure of so many diseases is unknown to the physicians; they are ignorant of the whole. For this is the great error of our day in the treatment of the human body, that physicians separate the mind from the body.”
After I underwent surgery to remove a massive ovarian tumor in 2012, my vision has been to bring energy medicine into the churches. In my own (United Methodist) tradition, the Reverend John Wesley was active in addressing the healing needs of people. He was not just about preaching the gospel, but bringing the GOOD NEWS: body, mind, and spirit.
Recently, a woman came to our local healers circle. She is trained in Reiki, one of many of the hands-on-healing methods. She shared with the group her husband had a significant improvement of some symptoms after she gave him some Reiki healing energy last winter (during a storm) when they couldn’t get him out to the emergency room. He is encouraging her to find ways to use her gift of spiritual healing.
Coincidentally, their church is one that I have a connection with, having taught meditation, guided imagery, and creative visualization there. Theirs is a wonderfully open and affirming congregation. I remember the love and respect they gave to me and my healing work.
People of faith already do distant healing work—calling it intercessory prayer. People of faith already know that they are not the ones doing the healing. People of faith already recognize healing happens beyond the estimation and the rationale of modern medicine.
These points are key, and there is sufficient research to support the facts, but the transformation in our medical system may not come from doctors and hospitals alone. The shift from treating symptoms to inviting transformational healing may much more naturally and rapidly come from pastors and people of faith in local congregations.
Let me know if you are interested in introducing (or expanding) a hands-on-healing ministry within your faith community. It has been 2500 years since Plato and Socrates advocated treating the whole person, so perhaps time is a trick and we really are seeing there is a plan behind appearances that does not change….
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Small Changes … Infinite Results™
“If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”
~ |
By Debra Basham, on September 30, 2014
While riding my bike with a couple of friends in the Apple Cider Century we stopped by a local pumpkin patch. Scattered throughout the yard were some creatures, and I could not resist taking a couple “selfies.”
I sent this first photo to my daughter, Stacey, and she quickly wrote back, “Scary! I don’t like clowns.” That is a family funny. When he was about four years old, our grandson Adam told his mom he wanted to go home (he was visiting us in Michigan) because we have clown paintings on our kitchen walls and they scared him. I took the paintings down and turned them against the wall so we could go on and have a great week together!
A few weeks ago, I had the following article about fear published in the local newspaper.
Fear of Feeling Fear
Since WMMT ran a news story about my work helping people overcome fears and phobias, I have been thinking a lot about how fears and phobias relates to our faith.
In the Christian New Testament, it is written: “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.” (1 John 4:18, New International Version)
In the March 22, 2012, Psychology Todayarticle, “The (Only) Five Basic Fears We All Live By”, Karl Albrecht, Ph. D., writes we are all afraid of the same few things: Extinction, Mutilation, Loss of Autonomy, Separation, and Ego-death.
The first two are pretty self-explanatory, but it may be helpful to think a bit more deeply about the other three. Loss of autonomy shows up anywhere our desires are thwarted—including feeling overwhelmed, smothered, or entrapped. Fear of separation is related to feelings not being wanted, respected, or valued. Ego-death is experienced in our lack of lovability, capability, and worthiness.
It may be that we all learned a subtle habit of fearing fear when we saw others acting out emotional avoidances: not asking for a truly deserved raise, a deeply desired date, or a much needed hug—not being honest about what we wanted or needed for fear we would not get it.
My father was an alcoholic. My mother, understandably embarrassed by his drinking, had essentially no social life, but it was not until after his death that we recognized she was actually agoraphobic. Her social fear had been hidden behind my father’s behavior.
Community-based fears spring up around a shared experience. In the aftermath of the bombing at the Boston Marathon, security expert Brian Schneier was quoted in The Washington Post: “If you are scared, they win. If you refuse to be scared, they lose.”
Marianne Williamson (A Return to Love) was quoted by Nelson Mandela: “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
Just as Susan Jeffers explains in her internationally acclaimed best-selling classic, Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway, we had been unable to see our emotional reactions to life as the “memories of” fear they really are. We may have rationalized them, justified them, denied them, or projected them onto others, but they were just our own memories. Fear comes from our past to rob us of the opportunity found in each present moment.
If you are ready to move beyond any fear habit you learned along the way, you might enjoy reading Patty Chang Anker‘s book, Some Nerve: Lessons Learned While Becoming Brave. Chapter 7 includes her overcoming the fear of moving water by surfing for the first time in Lake Michigan off the shores of Saint Joseph. Spoiler alert: Patty did that in 36 degree water in February!
We must all walk our talk by letting grace allow us to live in love, not fear.
I had a lot of fun snapping photos with the scary creatures. This one was really fun!
What makes some things scary to some people and not to others? We know fear is a learned response. Hypnosis is known to eliminate fears. Fortunately, we are not helpless!
By Debra Basham, on September 20, 2014
It has been a day about keys. The first lesson took place at the hardware store when I was getting keys cut to our new office space. The young man behind the desk looked to be younger than my grandsons. He was helping another customer, and I entertained myself by looking at all the options.
I could see beer brand key blanks, sports team blanks, specialty food key blanks, and blanks with heads shaped like myriad animals. I had no idea key blanks came in such fancy options. The fancy ones ranged in price up to about five dollars but a sign listed single cut keys at $1.99.
When the fresh-faced young man asked if he could help me, I told him I needed to get four keys made. He asked if I wanted silver or color.
“Is the price the same for the colored ones?” I inquired.
“Yes, I have these colors,” he pointed to the key blanks hanging on the wall. I was drawn to the pretty colors. Color can be such a nice touch. There were four color choices: red, green, yellow, and purple. I needed four keys. That seemed to be my answer!
“Let’s go with these,” I smiled as I dropped four blanks into his hand—one of each color.
I handed him my key chain, and watched as he turned on the machine that cuts the keys.I listened to the familiar grinding sound. In my former life as a clerk in a department store what seems like a century ago I used to cut keys…. A soft clink brought me back from the past as four colored keys were placed in my hand. I heard him saying I could pay for them up front.
As the woman working at the checkout scanned the first one I saw $2.29 in the window. Right and wrong are pretty hard wired into my being. “I understood the price to be $1.99.”
If looks could kill, I would not be writing this blog now. With a huff, the clerk turned to another employee standing nearby. “How much are the color keys? It rings up $2.29.”
Feeling the sand shifting under my feet, I knew I was stepping off my center. “The young man who cut them for me told me the price was the same as the silver keys.”
“Kyle!” the other woman yelled into a mic on her lapel. He was close enough that he answered without the sound system. Kyle (not his real name) walked toward us like a dog with his tail between his legs. “How much are the colored keys?”she demanded.
He threw me under the bus. It is always to save ourselves we do that. Most often to save face when there is no real threat other than to our fragile ego. “I don’t know,” he stammered.
Further from my center, I looked at him and spoke the truth. “When I asked you if the colors were the same price as the silver, you said they were.”
As his young, fresh, face fell, I came to my senses.
“I will pay the price. He made a mistake. It is such a small amount of money and money is certainly not something worth being unkind to a person about.”
I looked up at his face, sure he was looking back at me. “Mistakes happen. We are forever learning, aren’t we….”
I completed the transaction and left the store with four colored keys: Red, Green, Yellow, and Purple. It was easy to have compassion for the young man, but not so much for the two women clerks. When I sit in silence tomorrow morning I will be aware I misspoke when I told him I needed four keys. I obviously need at least one more: The key to compassion for all.
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