Please Be Gentle With Yourself

I have found myself writing and/or saying those words to an unusually large number of people in recent months. 

All in response to trauma, stress, fear, illness, worry or the loss of a loved one.

According to Chinese Medicine, Autumn is the time for grief and awe, for choosing the valuable jewels to keep in your pocket and letting the rest go. Many people let go of life in the fall, leaving the rest of us to grieve and cherish the gifts worth keeping. My mentor and friend, BobDuggan, the one who taught me this, passed away this fall. I am thankful daily for the many gifts he gave me and am inspired anew to share them with the world.

Now, we begin the plunge into the holiday season and Winter is making itself known. It is the season of courage and fear, quietly facing the unknown and being willing to sit in deep, dark, stillness with it. Letting our resources rebuild until we're ready to rise back up in the Spring. Unlike the chaos many of us have designed for ourselves this time of year. 

As as a result, this transition we're in, between letting go and unknowing, is often a struggle for many in our culture. We seem to think that we should be on the go constantly, happy constantly, no time to reflect. And yet, nothing in nature does that. What makes us think we're exempt? I'm seeing a lot of illness and dis-ease in my treatment room due that struggle. Helping people let go and open back up to that deep, revitalizing stillness is a huge part of my work these days.

It seems to me that it's no mistake that the presidential election is at this transitional time of year. It is our nation's time to choose what/who is valuable and let the rest drop away. It sets the tone for the future, just as fall and winter in the natural world does for spring.

Many old wounds are being lanced of late in our world. So much pain. So much suffering. So much ugliness. As we mend and recover, may we come to cherish what's valuable while letting go of what's not. May we sit quietly together, listening, as we repair these old wounds, not knowing what will come of it.

May we show simple kindness to ourselves. And others. Rebuilding our community, one moment at a time. Not in reaction, just quietly being with each other. The equivalent of my (southern) culture's tradition of just showing up with a ham and quietly doing the dishes. This is how we will heal and grow together.

So, please… be gentle with yourself.

Until next time,

Janice

p.s. Feel free to drop me a note or give me a call if I can be of help to you during this time. ~ jc

Please Be Gentle With Yourself

I have found myself writing and/or saying those words to an unusually large number of people in recent months. 

All in response to trauma, stress, fear, illness, worry or the loss of a loved one.

According to Chinese Medicine, Autumn is the time for grief and awe, for choosing the valuable jewels to keep in your pocket and letting the rest go. Many people let go of life in the fall, leaving the rest of us to grieve and cherish the gifts worth keeping. My mentor and friend, BobDuggan, the one who taught me this, passed away this fall. I am thankful daily for the many gifts he gave me and am inspired anew to share them with the world.

Now, we begin the plunge into the holiday season and Winter is making itself known. It is the season of courage and fear, quietly facing the unknown and being willing to sit in deep, dark, stillness with it. Letting our resources rebuild until we're ready to rise back up in the Spring. Unlike the chaos many of us have designed for ourselves this time of year. 

As as a result, this transition we're in, between letting go and unknowing, is often a struggle for many in our culture. We seem to think that we should be on the go constantly, happy constantly, no time to reflect. And yet, nothing in nature does that. What makes us think we're exempt? I'm seeing a lot of illness and dis-ease in my treatment room due that struggle. Helping people let go and open back up to that deep, revitalizing stillness is a huge part of my work these days.

It seems to me that it's no mistake that the presidential election is at this transitional time of year. It is our nation's time to choose what/who is valuable and let the rest drop away. It sets the tone for the future, just as fall and winter in the natural world does for spring.

Many old wounds are being lanced of late in our world. So much pain. So much suffering. So much ugliness. As we mend and recover, may we come to cherish what's valuable while letting go of what's not. May we sit quietly together, listening, as we repair these old wounds, not knowing what will come of it.

May we show simple kindness to ourselves. And others. Rebuilding our community, one moment at a time. Not in reaction, just quietly being with each other. The equivalent of my (southern) culture's tradition of just showing up with a ham and quietly doing the dishes. This is how we will heal and grow together.

So, please… be gentle with yourself.

Until next time,

Janice

p.s. Feel free to drop me a note or give me a call if I can be of help to you during this time. ~ jc

Our Words Can Outlive Us...

Often throughout the year, I think of my friend, Vienna Hagen, who left this world far too soon. She fought an amazing fight with a cancer that was only accidentally discovered and blazed out in wonder, love, and shear crazy glory for the days remaining to her. That woman sure knew how to live in the face of damn near anything.

Always the brave one, Vienna, liked being a trailblazer. So, it is only fitting that she be the first (& possibly last) posthumous guest writer on my blog. Here is something she wrote a few years ago. Still one of my favorite pieces about Fall. Enjoy.

And remember, you never know how what you say or write will come back to haunt somebody...

Fall Happens

by Vienna Hagen

There is a night when fall happens. Neither a function of calendars, nor exactly weather, seasons, like Mary Poppins, arrive when the wind changes. Spring comes in the morning, with the soft scent of damp earth and the glimpse of a green bud. Summer arrives one day at noon, with a dry sky and a single bead of sweat. Winter sneaks up and slides in with the cottony sound that muffles the world right before it snows, but fall happens at night.

One night, after a warm day when it seems that summer is never going to end, autumn dances in. Fall is not a thief, like winter, nor blatant as the summer, instead it is a gypsy, strong and sure. “Come” it says, “see my pretties! I have colors galore, and tastes! I have glowing lights and magical bells! Come and share!”

On the night that fall comes, the breeze shifts, becomes, even if for but a moment, a wind. In the blink of an eye, the air turns crisp and sharp. The lingering dusty warmth of summer is swept away, and leaves, even though still green, suddenly rustle as though they were made of paper, no longer liquid and growing, but all, as if on cue, beginning the countdown to falling in multi-hued mountains for use as the landing zones of childhood, and the funeral pyres of summer vacation.

Apples are just the fruit needed by fall. Strawberries are too soft and sweet, designed for the wedding of spring to summer. Peaches, watermelon, nectarines are all for quenching the thirsty days of July and August, but apples are for fall. Tart skin snaps when you bite into it, like the little slap of cool air on your face on a clear autumn day. Apples are solid, and can stand up to a frosty morning. Apples have character.

The window stood open after a warm, lazy day and it was too much of an effort to close it, so after the sun went down, fall waltzed in. A sudden, almost imagined chill brushed through, and the tree outside creaked a little as though feeling its age. In a subtle instant, it was time to take the blanket down off the shelf where it had lived since the day the forsythia popped open like corn. Lemonade was no longer the thing. Ice cube trays that had been freshly filled might remain so now for months. One lone fly that had gotten in the day before and entertained the cats enormously now, suddenly, disappeared.

Outside, leaves clattered, calling attention to themselves as if knowing that the curtain was about to go up on their final, but most spectacular performance. Insect choruses packed their bags and gave in to the inevitable. Lightening bugs conceded defeat for the year. Air that had been leaden and flat became crystalline and bounced off the tip of the nose. Last night, fall happened.

Ah... Vienna. The world is such a poorer place without you, my friend. I can still see you standing buck-naked in your graduation robe. Gotta' love a redhead!

peace,

Janice

Treating With An Open Heart

This medicine is amazing.

I have an elderly, white, male patient who told me at his initial intake that a) he was afraid of black people, b) he didn't trust his wife's lesbian doctor, and c) he left his first acupuncturist because she was Chinese and he didn't understand her or “her ways”. I stopped him short by declaring the treatment room a politics-free zone before he could finish telling me, I'm almost certain, that he was a Trump supporter.

Really.

I'm not making this up.

I smiled, thinking of my other (black, LBGTQ, etc.) patients that he'd be encountering in my waiting room on a weekly basis.

For anyone who knows me, the next logical question is, “how could I sit in the face of all that?”

Believe me, it was not seamless. It took a minute to process each statement initially and just as I was coming to terms with one of them, he'd come out with another one. Luckily, I was able to keep my face neutral.

Then it occurred to me. This is exactly the kind of patient that really needs my help - to open back up to himself and his life, to understand his body, what it's telling him and how he moves in the world.

So, I took a deep breath and looked past his ideas and listened to his story of what it meant to be him living in his body. I went ahead with my intake just like I always do. And you know what? I came to see this frightened, lost man, who still, in his 70's, was carrying and believing the negative internal dialogue his father had instilled in him. A guy whose need for extreme frugality despite his very healthy bank account, pointed to a life lived entirely under the weight of lack. It broke my heart.

And so, we began the work. Letting the beauty of Chinese Medicine lead me, I chose points to help him find center, reduce pain, appreciate what his body could do – not bemoan what it couldn't – and he began to heal. Using my SOPHIA skills, we looked at how the words that he was using to describe being alive were causing him pain and how to change them into something worth living into. We addressed his diet, his sleep habits, and all the other usual stuff. And things slowly began to change.

Then, during his 10th appointment, he mentioned that the majority of the guys in his weekly exercise group were black and that, to his surprise, he really enjoyed hanging out with them, talking and joking around. He had accidentally found a community that he really appreciated, and they weren't at all like he'd feared them to be. Wow.

This “drawing the bigger circle” thing is not for the weak of heart. My chest would ache with grief every time this man came in and I would make myself remain open, bearing witness to his pain and fear – physical and otherwise. And then that 10^th appointment came and my chest ached again, only with joy for once. Just like the Grinch, his heart has grown at least two sizes that day, and mine had too.

I guess what I'm wanting to say is that although, there's almost always more work to be done in a lot of situations -

Don't give up on people.

Be strong. Love fiercely in the face of fear masquerading as hate.

They might surprise you.

until next time,

peace,

Janice

Don't Wait For Someone Else To Draw The Bigger Circle!

In the interest of full disclosure, I am a Southern born, white female raised in a Democrat-turned-Republican household that supported desegregation and my dad was appointed to Nixon's sub-cabinet. I'm also a recovering union stage manager, recovering Southern Baptist, current Chinese Medicine practitioner, Democratic Independent and Taoist - oh, and bisexual, hetero-monochromatically married mother of a 10 year old boy, living in Baltimore. Needless to say, I've got a lot going on and there are people in my life from all across the spectrum.

That being said, regardless with whom I engage, what I'm hearing over and over again is that we all need to change how we move in the world. The time for being armchair activists is over.

Years ago, when GW got elected a second time, much to my horror, I decided I needed to know why intelligent, compassionate people, that I loved, had voted for him a second time. So, I called one of my sisters and asked.

I did not say, “How the hell could you do that?”

I said, “I'm calling to ask you a question – not to be political or to argue but because I really want and need to know the answer. Why did you vote for him a second time? I need you to explain it to me because I just can't reconcile it with who I know you to be.”

And so, she did. The conversation that ensued was eye-opening and amazing and important. We did not change each other's point of view and yet, we came to understand why we each did what we did in a way that was healing and brought us closer.

We are not all meant to get along and agree on everything. There are just too many of us on the planet for that to be feasible. As one might guess, I'm not fond of boxes. I learned years ago not to assume that people fall neatly into ideological groups by what race, profession, gender, or whatever they are. For example, I knew a a theatrical technical director that was Republican. Who knew?! And what a surprise when I learned that not all lesbians were well read, interesting people.

It is tempting, however, to want to insulate ourselves from those that think and behave differently than we do. It can be a very needed form of protection. For a while. It if becomes a habit, though, we become too insular. The circle gets too small and chokes the humanity out of us. This is why I continue to engage with people with whom I, often vehemently, disagree.

I'm drawing a bigger circle, however painful that may be. One we can all live in. Because I believe that is the only thing that can save us. I am not saying condone abhorrent behavior. I'm saying find the common ground where healing can begin. As the poet, Rumi, would say, “There is a field out beyond right and wrong. I'll meet you there.” I'm willing to meet anyone there, who is willing to do the work.

This brings me to G, whom I knew in high school and have reconnected with on Facebook. We are on opposite sides of the political and social spectrum. We are also both white. We disagree on everything from the environment to politics to U.S. race relations. There are many times I have wanted to shake him by his ears and on occasion, unfriend him. I haven't, though. Articulating the things I feel strongly about so that I hope he can hear them has taught me to hone my intention and language in a way that draws that bigger circle. It is important that our entire dialogue exists in type for all the Facebook world to see and I am very aware that our discussions are not just for us. It's like having guests over for dinner. Suddenly, everyone's table manners are better. Both G and I are very aware of the wording of our interactions and have, in the past, labored for actual months to be able to find one sentence of common ground between us.

And we found it.

Because I continue to have these types of conversations with my family and friends and strangers, I understand the fear and passion and sadness of “the other side” while honing a clearer and clearer understanding of what I hold dear and why. Were I only preaching to the choir, none of us would learn anything and the world would remain a very small place.

Through these discussions, I have not only learned more environmental science, political history, and social history but I have also gained more understanding of the lived experience of being transgender, a person of color, Muslim, Jewish, devote Christian, Republican, died in the wool Democrat, socialist, conservative, a member of the police and so many other things. Most importantly, it has informed my experience and understanding of being white, Southern, female, educated, and American, and how that impacts me and everyone around me.

It's a practice. I don't always get it right. And I keep practicing.

Because of these conversations, when I am with my friends, family, strangers and my patients, I have more ease in asking, “How are you? How are you holding up?” after the killings of unarmed black people, GLBTQ people, and white police officers - or in the case of Native Americans, knowing why not to ask, “Did you have a good 4^th?” or “How was your Thanksgiving?”.

Then – here's the important part - just listening - to their pain and sadness and anger without judgment, my heart open to the point of breaking and yet, not making it about me. If I can do this for others, then I know, when my heartbreak comes, they will do it for me because the circle is big enough for all of us and together we will heal.

The Passing On of A Friend

A couple of weeks ago, I had a shamanic healer tell me to keep a look out for a girl, a piece of paper, and an owl. Weird, I know. And he, the shaman, is a trustworthy sort and really knows his stuff. So, I have been holding that loosely in the back corner of my mind ever since.

This past Friday, when I woke up, I noticed that the world seemed quieter for some reason. Not making much of the observation, I went on with my day, went to the office to treat a few folks then had plans to go play chess with my friend, Penny.

About midday, I saw a text from my dear friend, Marty. Our beloved Vienna Hagan (formerly Helen Sacher) had died quietly in her sleep early that morning.

My heart broke open. Wide. Painful yes... and painful like bright light can be painful... not painful like a tearing away. The sensation was so different from anything I had felt before with grief, even knowing each time is different. I was awed. It was expansive not contractive. Weird. And I just let it be as I cried great gulping sobs for the loss of my friend and really, for the world's loss.

You see, Vienna was one of the great lights in the world. Her spirit – or shen as we say in Chinese Medicine – was so clear, it radiated happiness and love to the whole world. Not in a cheesy, intentional way – just by being who she was. She was a big, red-headed girl in her 40's who loved life and everyone in it. She embraced adventure and was very, very brave. Especially in the face of the cancer that finally took her life. So much so that she truly lived for over two years after being diagnosed, rather than the handful of months they gave her to survive.

As I sat looking for words to describe the expansive feeling in my chest, I looked up and there pinned above my desk amidst a bunch of other stuff was a piece of paper with an owl on it that said:

Miracles start to happen when you give as much energy to your dreams as you do to your fears.

And I began to laugh. Loudly. In equal volume to my sobs from a moment before. Vienna had such a great sense of humor! And that quote was a real smack in the head. It sounded just like her.

It became clear to me that her light had just grown so bright that a body couldn’t contain it any longer. And when she died, I had been lucky enough to get a refracted piece of that light that opened my heart wide. What joy!

I spent the rest of the day smiling. And feeling as though I had been given my marching orders. Those of us who were lucky enough to be touched by the beautiful spirit that was Vienna Hagen have a mandate. Or at least, I do. It is now my responsibility to continue to carry that joy and wonder out into the world. That is the best memorial a girl could ask for.

It has been several days now, and the feeling persists. I am no longer asking, “If not now, when?” because now is it – in a very visceral way, I am forever changed.

I wish you all much light and love and laughter. And look out for miracles...

peace,

Janice

What's on your plate?

I'm back!

Life has provided a feast of opportunities for me over the last year and a half and blog updates have fallen by the wayside. Many apologies.

On my plate, I have my rewarding acupuncture practice, my peaceful and lovely wellness center, the second year of my graduate studies in Chinese Herbs leading to my eventual Doctorate in Chinese Medicine, supervising in the student acupuncture clinic and teaching diagnostic interaction at MUIH, and last but far from least, my wonderful family.

*whew*

So, where and when to breathe?

Now.

It's all we truly have.

When a patient comes to see me, I often lead them in the following meditation:

Take a deep breath all the way down to your toes, breathing deep into your belly. 

Now, with each exhale, I want you to let go of everything up to this minute. The past does not exist except in what we say about it. And we get to tell whatever story we want to... or none at all. So, for now, just let them all drop away like rain off a raincoat.

At the same time, letting go of anything that might happen next. Letting all the what-ifs and the lists of things to do float away like a handful of balloons...

Letting all of you sink down into right now.

Pulling your awareness down through your whole body to the soles of your feet.

Noticing the spaces between your toes...

The weight of your body in space...

And giving yourself permission to stop doing... and let yourself be.

Alive and awake to this moment, 

right now,

where life is happening.

It's all we have...

and more than enough.


*ahhh...*

I'll meet you back here next time.
Unless of course, I see you in the real world before then.

peace,
Janice