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Of Unicorns and Rainbows

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Written by Karen D. Swim

I sat at my desk watching the steam from my morning cup of coffee curl and dissipate in the quiet morning air.  Technically at work but not fully alert I gazed out the window as command central booted up for the day.

I closed my eyes and inhaled the aroma of the Arabica beans allowing my senses to awaken.  *Beep* I sipped deeply and smiled at the familiar sound of the doorbell to my digital community.

Three years ago my “digital community” was limited to an email list of women praying for and supporting one another. Today, the connections are not easily traced from end to end, stretching across borders and communication platforms, multiplying along the way.  In this community people never move they simply add on growing from digital condo to mansion with a mouse click. Foundations shift but connections are never lost.  With each new neighborhood, the community grows, more stoops to visit, and stories to exchange.

My digital community has taught me that the power of human connection does not require you to inhabit the same physical space. A kind word when you’re on the verge of tears, a photo of a chocodote and talk of gorillas and pizza cheer the heart as powerfully as if you were in the same room.

I have learned that love and kindness are not diluted by the digital medium but strenghtened and multiplied as it is shared and spread, hashtagged and retweeted swelling as each adds to it as it travels through the digitial continuum. A cuppa with your digitial fence neighbor as deeply satisfying as a visit in a cafe.

We humans are amazing beings. Creative, fierce, determined and loyal. We find ways to forge deep and lasting connections in spite of geography, language differences, time zones and all manner of challenges that seem to stand in the way. We have conquered time and space using bits, bytes and memory cards.  Refusing to be defeated by physical barriers, we support, encourage, inspire, and teach our tribe.

*Beep*  the horn has sounded, the tribe has spoken, it is time to engage. The circle widens allowing my presence and I smile in humble gratitude.

What have  you learned from your community?

This post is my humble thank you to all of you and my conntirubtion to  Middle Zone Musings’ 24th Group Writing Project, What I Learned From Community. Care to share? Entries are being accepted until Sunday, May 10th at Midnight CST.

Planted in Adversity, Harvested in Hope

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Anza-Borrego Desert
Image by Waqas Ahmed via Flickr

Written by Karen D. Swim

“What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well.” – Antoine de Saint-Exupery

The imagery of the desert is often used to symbolize adversity or those seasons in our life when we are  challenged from every angle. The dry, scrabbly land and unforgiving climate aptly describe how we feel when we toil for answers and receive no harvest in return.

In the desert, relationships change. Just like the sun, welcoming in fair weather but  becoming a fiery enemy in the desert region, searing your defenses with its white hot rays. You are forced to slow your pace, to measure your steps and adapt to the land like the prickly cacti that conserve their own water to survive.

“Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are.” –Arthur Golden

Yet, both adversity and the desert, difficult and unkind on the surface can bring forth a beauty unequaled in “milder” climates. In the desert you tap into your source of inner strength as you still the confusion and tune into the silence that surrounds you. Like the cacti, you draw from your inner well to nourish and sustain you. You no longer drink arrogantly allowing the liquid of life to spill to the ground and evaporate but savour each precious as it revives and restores you.

In the inky night sky of the desert the stars are at their most brilliant. And in the darkness of challenge,  it is our faith that lights up the sky shining brighter than ever before.

I have never willingly planned a vacation in the land of adversity but I will admit to learning my greatest lessons while there. I have been scorched by the desert sun and momentarily been fooled by the mirage of false hope. I believed that I would perish in the wilderness and the vultures would feast upon my carcass. It was in the darkness of those moments that water poured from the rocky land nourishing me and giving me hope that I would find my way home.

When I finally made my way to the end of the desert path, I looked back to see the dry and rocky land covered in a field of sprawling wildflowers,strong, untamed and free.

It is said that adversity is the best teacher, do you agree?

This post is an entry in the What I Learned from Adversity group writing project. The writing project is open to everyone and if you’d like to contribute, the deadline is midnight April 12th.

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Sidewalk Surprises

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Written by Karen D. Swim

In the past several months I have been forced happy to walk everywhere I go. My most frequent errand is to the grocery store so I have spent a great deal of time traveling the same routes. Since there are only so many routes I’ve gotten to know the stretch of roads between me and food very well.

The great thing about walking is that you really get to know your community. You notice the smallest details when you’re not whizzing by in your car while talking on the phone (not that I talk and drive mind you). I have memorized the bumps in the road, the best places to cross without becoming road kill, even the way every neighbor positions their trash can on collection day. So, even when the ground is covered with snow, I know the places to adjust my footing and those to be avoided all together.

However, one day this winter, my route taught me a lesson I will not soon forget.

It was a typical winter day, cold, with a couple of feet of snow on the ground. Faced with eating olive oil and unsweetened banana chips, I piled on layers and headed for the grocery store.  I waddled out the door resembling the Michelin man with lipstick. I made it to the store in record time and whistled as I collected my groceries. At the checkout I packed my groceries in my backpack and a second canvas sack which I would carry in my hand.

I knew the most slippery parts of my sidewalk route and gingerly avoided them. I reached the part in my route where I would step up on a small grass embankment, climb up a tiny hill and down again to reach my house. I could actually see my house from this point. I began whistling again and marched on with a spring in my step. I had bought my favorite tea and was looking forward to a piping hot cup when I got home.

I slowed down and walked around the slippery part and with the hill within reach, my feet lifted high in the air and I found myself flat on my back (cushioned only slightly by the backpack bulging with groceries). My hat had flown off my head and in my shock the first thing I did was smooth my hair and worry frantically that I had hat hair in public with no mirror to check.

I rose slowly, and grabbed my hat and the few parcels that had escaped the bag.  Certain that nothing was broken I carried on, a bit slower and with a bit of dignity loss. I knew the route. I had traveled it many times. How on earth had I managed to fly in the air like a cartoon character?

I learned that day that even the well-traveled sidewalk holds a few surprises, much like life itself. We can grow comfortable in our trusted routes and routines and then get thrown (literally) for a loop when we stop paying attention. I also learned that eggs really can survive a fall.  I still walk that same sidewalk nearly every day, but now I give it the respect and attention it deserves, and I carry a mirror, just in case.

This post is a contribution to Robert Hruzek’s What I Learned From a Sidewalk Group Writing Project.  I hope you will consider taking part by sharing your own sidewalk reflections.

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What I Learned From Love

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Written by Karen D. Swim

I sat by his bed with the notebook by my side. The day was warm and clear and I gazed into the backyard as he slept. He had worked so hard on the yard and it was one of our favorite things about our lovely little home. A vegetable garden right outside our bedroom window provided us with beautiful tomatoes, peppers, corn, herbs and greens. An array of beautiful blooms surrounded the yard like the borders of a frame. The trees seemed to gently watch over us as they stretched toward the sky.

A few weeks ago he had cut down huge branches from the tress closest to the house.  He seemed like a man possessed. I hated watching trees being trimmed and my eyes brimmed with tears as I feared he was cutting too much.  I asked him what he was doing. Without missing a beat with the saw he told me he had to do it while he could so I would not have to worry. My husband was not romantic in the traditional sense but his practical gestures of love were like a sonnet written upon my heart.

His gentle breathing quickened and I shook from my reverie, returning to the present. I looked over, ready to spring into action when he looked toward the right of the room. His brows knitted together, he asked “who are all those people?” I followed his eyes and asked softly, “What people honey?” “All those people, dressed in white.” I swallowed the lump in my throat before responding, “those are the angels honey they are watching over you.” Pleased with my answer he continued to look at them in silence. I don’t know what he saw but I felt a mixture of peace and sadness. I could not bear to let this man go, so many things left undone, but I knew that if it were to be he would be gently carried away to a far better place.

The following week I calmly called 911 when he struggled to breathe. I opened the notebook and gave the paramedics a full history of all that happened that day, blood pressure, pulse, glucose, medications, and more. They eyed me in amazement but love had taught me to keep track. I drove behind the ambulance to the hospital, making phone calls along the way. Once again, I sat by his bed, comforting, praying and loving him. Soon he was being wheeled to ICU and our hands locked together, I leaned in and told him I wanted him to live but if he needed to let go, I would be okay.

The words so easily tumbled from my lips in spite of the pain in my heart because love had taught me to put it first. It was not my pain that mattered but his peace. That was to be our final night. No words were left unspoken as the angels gently carried him away.  Love taught me to embrace it fiercely, and cherish it deeply but to release it when the time came for it to soar to the heavens.

I learned from love how to let go.

This post is a contribution to the February What I Learned From groupwrite project. I struggled to hit publish on this one and Robert gently encouraged me and graciously offered to accept my late entry. Thank you Robert!

Wednesday Love List

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What I Learned from the Generosity of Strangers

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Written by Karen D. Swim

On February 2, 1992 I sat in an office at Daniel Freeman Hospital with a nun and friends who were there to support me. My mother had passed away this day and I was dutifully signing papers and handling the necessary administrative details. I saw and heard very little and remember even less. I walked out of the doors of the hospital inconsolable. I could not control the sobs as my body absorbed the loss of my best friend, confidante, and role model.

As I walked into the light of day, a woman stopped and touched my arm. Soon her arms were around me as she consoled me and prayed for me right there in the parking lot.  She had recognized the grief of losing a mother and rather than bowing her head and quickly walking away she stopped to offer comfort.  From the experience of her own grief she gave me the gift of hope.

I clung to her every word, this warm and gracious woman who had survived the loss of a beloved mother. I trusted her experience and believed the comforting words she offered.  I saw her sincere and giving heart and somehow through the pain knew that one day I would be okay too.

In the days and weeks ahead, her words wrapped themselves around me like a gentle hug. I ached more than I ever thought possible but because of this woman I had hope.  The gift this woman gave me was more precious than gold. She gave the gift of her self, her time and her heart to a wounded 29 year old who desperately needed it.

This woman’s gift taught me that a gift of self is as valuable as a pot of gold.  A willingness to share yourself with another may be the best gift you can give. Her gift also taught me to pay it forward from the cup of my experience.  Over the years, I have been quick to help others through loss offering insight from my own experience. It is not always easy to revisit your own pain but I learned from a stranger that the voice of experience can touch in a special way.

So often we think of generosity as a tangible or financial gift but the generosity of spirit is just as valuable. I will forever be grateful to this wonderful stranger for a gift that continues to bless me 15 years later.

This post is a contribution to the 19th edition of the What I Learned From groupwrite project.  If you missed this month’s project, never fear, read Middle Zone Musings for next month’s topic.

Stress – Screeching Strings or Beautiful Music?

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Mental Health: Stress and Work

Image by xeeliz via Flickr

Written by Karen D. Swim

Stress. Sometimes the mere mention of the word can shoot your blood pressure and heart rate up a few points. However, stress can be good, bad or neutral. The American Institute of Stress has this to say about stress:

“Increased stress increases productivity – up to a point, after which things rapidly deteriorate, and that level also differs for each of us. It’s much like the stress or tension on a violin string. Not enough produces a dull raspy sound and too much an irritating screech or snaps the string – but just the correct degree of stress creates a beautiful tone.

Similarly, we all have to find the right amount of stress that permits us to make pleasant music in our daily lives. You can learn how to utilize and transform stress so that it will make you more productive and less self-destructive.”  -Paul J. Rosch, M.D., F.A.C.P., President, The American Institute of Stress

Now, if you’re like me most often you associate stress with the “irritating screech” and not a beautiful tone.  I liked the idea of a beautiful tone and it got me thinking about good and bad stress in my own life.

When my husband was diagnosed with cancer, stress became part of the package. Like most, I handled most days just fine but there were moments – making coffee but forgetting to put the coffee pot on the burner, bursting into tears at the pharmacy babbling about Chinese food and sleep and scooping fish into a bucket after an aquarium leak  – that definitely fall into the irritating SCREECH category.  In the heat of the moment my body felt like a string ready to snap. However, once the string snapped, the tension dissolved.

In fact, as my husband looked on in befuddlement after the coffee incident, I laughed. He really thought I was perfect. Poor thing it was quite a revelation to discover he was wrong! The falling apart at the pharmacy though it stunned those who looked on helped me to breathe again. From that point on, I scheduled six minute mini-breakdowns to, you know keep the strings loose.

Bad stress has taught me that we cannot entirely avoid stress in life but we can manage it.  By acknowledging the circumstances that are causing stress and allowing ourselves to break down, ask for help, accept the prayers that are offered, we can tone the screeching down to a hum.

Have you ever anxiously anticipated a happy event like walking down the aisle, a child graduating from college, or maybe a visit from an old friend? Do you remember the tingly, ball of energy that encompassed your body? You may have been on edge, but in a good way. Guess what? Yep, you got it that was good stress! Good stress often fires me up and helps me to get projects done or fuels new ideas for business. My body and mind exert just the right amount of force to create beautiful music.

In the world today, there are plenty of external forces that could push us into the red alarm zone of stress.  We have little control over many of those forces but we can reduce the tension on our strings.  For starters, we can can tune out the incessant negativity. We can also balance the harmony with good vibes from other sources. Take a walk, call a friend, turn off the news, play with the cat or dog, anything to add sweet sounds to the orchestra of your life. I rather like the idea of beautiful music and plan to focus on adjusting my own tension levels so that my stress is productive rather than destructive.

This post is an entry for the Middle Zone Musings Group Writing Project, What I Learned From Stress.  So, what about you, what have you learned from stress? Feel free to contribute an entry to the group writing project (you have until midnight October 12th) or offer your thoughts in the comment box below.  Hey, and if you have any happy thoughts to you know balance the stress, feel free to share. 🙂

Resources:

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