November 30, 2013

Haiku Rally #30 Holidays

Today is the last day of November and the final day of my month-long Haiku Rally. I have enjoyed my challenge and have found that I became more mindful as I created a haiku from my day to day experiences. Thank you to those of you who contributed your own haiku creations to my blog. While the official Haiku Rally is over for this year, I welcome you to continue to create and post your mindful haiku to the comment section of my blog at any time.

As we enter the holiday season full steam tomorrow the calendar turns to December, I encourage you to practice the fine art of wabi-sabi (the beauty and wholeness of imperfection) and remember to breathe....

Holidays
Holiday bustle
Practicing wabi-sabi
Noticing the breath

November 29, 2013

Haiku Rally #29 The Village

Shortly after Thanksgiving each year basement boxes get carried upstairs and the annual creation of "the village" begins by my daughter, Jen.  Some of these figures were my grandmother's but many are new additions, combined with the older ones to create a magical scene. I love the old and new coming together to create an ever changing landscape!


 The Village
The village appears
Emerging from the boxes
Each year magical



November 28, 2013

Haiku Rally #28 Thanksgiving

Wishing you a mindful, peaceful Thanksgiving...

Thanksgiving
Giving thanks today
Table laden with bounty
 Thankful for these gifts


November 27, 2013

Engage with Grace this Thanksgiving


Each Thanksgiving since 2008 I have donated my blog to an initiative called: Engage with Grace. This year is no exception. There is never the perfect opportunity to talk about end of life issues and it may seem especially incongruous on a holiday set aside for giving thanks, yet why not Thanksgiving? End of life discussions shouldn't be one size fits all or even one time conversations, they should evolve and change as life changes. They are talks from the heart, conversations about the values we hold dear, an opportunity to share our life narrative with our loved ones -- what better time than Thanksgiving weekend to share this gift of listening and sharing? So I invite you to do something a bit unconventional this Thanksgiving, perhaps begin a new tradition, alongside the green bean casserole, share Engage with Grace and let the conversation begin.
Happy Thanksgiving,
Pam


Most of us find ourselves pretty fascinating… flipping through photos and slowing down for the ones where we’re included, tweeting our favorite tidbits of information, facebook-ing progress on this or that…

We find other people captivating as well.  In fact, there’s a meme going around on facebook where people share a handful of things that most people don’t know about them – and there’s a great joy in learning these tidbits about the friends and family we think we know so well.
This Thanksgiving, we’re asking our friends and family to try this exercise, but with a twist – we want to know how they’d answer just five questions on their end-of-life preferences.


theoneslide

What? Are you CRAZY? Talk about how you’d want to die over Thanksgiving?  Yup – that’s exactly what we’re suggesting.   You know why?  Because this is a conversation you absolutely want to have exactly when you DON’T need to have it… and it’s a conversation you need to have with your loved ones.   Our hope for you this Thanksgiving is that you’ll have the luxury of checking both those boxes.

As humans, we’re all pretty fascinating, and exploring what matters to each of us under different circumstances can be a captivating conversation…and captivating conversations are part of what turkey dinners are all about.  It’s also a vital one – there will be few times in our lives where ‘getting it right’ is more important than at the end of them.

There are also few greater gifts you can give to your loved ones, and they to you, than making sure these lives we are living with such ferocious intent have the luxury of ending the same way.
Engage with Grace is a way to help get the conversation about end of life started – a way to Engage in this topic with Grace.  Just five simple questions about our end of life preferences that we can all commit to being able to answer – for ourselves, for our loved ones.  Take a quick look – do you know how you would answer?  Could you answer for your loved ones?   There is no wrong answer – It’s only wrong if you don’t know your answers … or if you haven’t shared them.

Coming together over the dinner table to talk about the important stuff is part of our DNA…and it’s where so much of the good stuff happens.  We connect, we share, we learn, we laugh, we fall in love, out of love, we fight and make up, we celebrate, we (maybe even) cry.  If this Thanksgiving turns out not to be your thing, then pick another dinner.  Check out the genius Death over Dinner movement started by our dear friend Michael Hebb to help make that happen.  Thousands of dinners happening across the country – from cool hipsters to the very dearest grandparents coming together to think hard, eat well, and make sure we nail this end of life thing by making sure we’re talking about it.  We double dog dare you to have a Death Dinner – and not enjoy it.

Know what else?  What we want at the end of our lives often changes as we go through them… a mum of toddlers may find she’d opt for more intensive treatment options, while a great-grandfather may feel more comfortable choosing quality of life related treatment… so have this conversation once, then keep having it.

None of us are planning for anything less than living forever – so until one of us is smart enough to make that happen (go Google!) – let’s at least commit to this: we live our life with intent – we can end our life with that same honor.  70% of us want to die at home, only 30% of us do.  Each of us will only die once – make sure you get to die the way you want. Then make sure that’s a gift you give to your loved ones as well.

Just five questions.  Just get started.

Could there be a more important conversation to have this Thanksgiving? Nope. Maybe that’s why they call it talkin’ turkey.

Haiku Rally #27 Grateful

Giving thanks for being on this crazy ride called life with all of you....


Grateful
Gather together
Traditions, some old, some new
Feeling gratitude


November 26, 2013

Haiku Rally #26 Snowflakes

Joining me on my morning commute...snowflakes!

Snowflakes
Snowflakes dance on air
Colliding, leaping, turning
Softly land on earth

November 25, 2013

Haiku Rally #25 The Art of Cold Weather

The intricate patterns of nature create an amazing display if we only slow down to notice -- this is what mindfulness is all about.


The Art of Cold Weather

Frost on the windshield
Kaleidoscope of crystals
Cold weather artwork

November 24, 2013

Haiku Rally #24 Windy Day

 Blustery day in New England leads to today's haiku.



Windy Day   

Wind blows wildly
Stew bubbles in the crock pot
Grateful to be warm

November 23, 2013

Haiku Rally #23 Nesting

 The late fall landscape reveals hidden treasures...

Nesting

Once hidden by leaves
Now visible and exposed
A family home


November 22, 2013

Haiku Rally #22 Rain

Noticing the sound of rain on a gray Friday morning...


Rain
Cadence of raindrops
Repeating sound and silence
Rhythmic percussion

November 21, 2013

Haiku Rally #21 The Bouquet

Mindful haiku for Thursday....

 
The Bouquet
A spectrum of hues
Lone blossoms joined together
In community

November 20, 2013

Haiku Rally #20 Swimming

An early morning haiku for Wednesday....

Swimming

Early morning swim
So hard to leave my warm bed
Waking in water



November 19, 2013

Haiku Rally #19 Pear Tree

A mindful moment today...what did you notice that changed since yesterday?

The Pear Tree

Pear tree stands proudly
Yesterday adorned with leaves
Today exposed, bare

November 18, 2013

Haiku Rally #18 A Gift

November weather in New England can be a bit unpredictable, a lot like life in general.The art of mindfulness is noticing the gifts not only the storms.


A Gift
Sunshine, warm breezes
Today feels like summertime
A gift in late fall

November 17, 2013

Haiku Rally #17 Letting Go

The universal struggle of letting go. Whether material objects or emotions the grip is the same, why is  letting go so difficult?


Letting Go


I am the steward
Talismans of yesteryear
So hard to let go

November 16, 2013

Haiku Rally #16 Saturday

There is something very nurturing about the smell of breakfast cooking, especially on Saturday.

Saturday
 
Scrambled eggs, bacon
Lingering over coffee
Saturday unfurls

November 15, 2013

Haiku Rally #15 Blue Jay

As I was drinking my morning coffee a very persistent blue jay sat outside my kitchen window, little did he know that he was inspiring today's haiku.
Blue Jay

Outside my window
The blue jay calls out commands
Does anyone hear?

November 14, 2013

Haiku Rally #14 Meditation Maintenance

Meditation is a solitary pursuit, yet coming together with others to meditate is an incredibly rich and nourishing experience. I am grateful to my meditation maintenance groups for allowing us to breathe together twice a month.

 Meditation Maintenance

Meditation Group
Watching the breath together
In community

November 13, 2013

Haiku Rally #13 Rushing Holidays

Felt a bit like Rip Van Winkle (did I sleep through November?) when I entered a store filled with Christmas merchandise this week...and inspired today's haiku. I invite you to share your thoughts in the comment section of my blog.


Rushing Holidays

Store shelves glittering
Catalogs fill the mailbox
Rushing holidays

November 12, 2013

Haiku Rally #12 End of the Day


 End of the Day


Mind full yet mindful
Slowly retracing the day
Time for a reset



Haiku Rally #11 November Snow

In the northeast we woke up to snow showers -- a harbinger of winter when I am still savoring autumn.


 November Snow

Silent snowflakes fall
Disappear as they touch earth
Autumn to winter

November 11, 2013

Haiku Rally #10 A Grateful Nation


Today's haiku, honoring those who served and continue to serve our country.

 A Grateful Nation
Flags fly on Main Street
Honoring, remembering
A grateful nation

November 10, 2013

Haiku Rally #9 Early Sunset

A haiku reflection on the early darkness of November....

Early Sunset

Four-thirty sunset
Darkness falls too early now
Still so much to do

Haiku Rally #8 Sunday Morning

Ah...I love slow mornings when I can savor the the back pages of the paper and read more than the headlines. My haiku offering for today.....

Sunday Morning

Sunday newspapers 
Piled high on the table
Slowly savoring

November 9, 2013

Haiku Rally #7 Walking on Leaves

Today's haiku is a reflection of the transition of autumn -- join in with your own haiku. They are easy to create -- 5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables on anything that you are noticing today.

Walking on Leaves


Crisp air, fallen leaves
Crunching underneath my feet
A magic carpet

November 8, 2013

Haiku Rally #6 -- The Labyrinth

Today's haiku was inspired by this morning's walk on the labyrinth at First Parish in Concord, MA

The Labyrinth

Walk the labyrinth
One step, breathe, another step
Circling the path

November 7, 2013

Haiku Rally #5 Driving Home

I had the pleasure of traveling to Northampton MA for a presentation to the Massachusetts Nurses Association last evening. After many miles on the interstate, I chose to venture onto back roads for a change -- quite a metaphor for a haiku.

Driving Home


Off the interstate
Took the scenic highway home
Time to see and breathe

November 6, 2013

Haiku Rally #4 -- Dawn

Here's today's haiku...enjoy and please share and add your own haiku.


Dawn

Quiet darkness now
Light creeps in from the edges
The world awakens

November 5, 2013

WBUR Commentary: "The Children Who Didn't Survive"

I am both humbled and honored to be a new contributor to WBUR, Boston's NPR news station's Cognoscenti. Today my first piece, The Children Who Didn't Survive, was published. I would welcome your comments and feedback both on my blog and on the Cognoscenti site.




Each year, early in October, a letter arrives with the return address of Massachusetts General Hospital, 55 Fruit St, Boston, Mass. I know immediately what the envelope contains and I pause and reflect for a few moments before I open it. Inside is an invitation to return to the place where my son, Nick, was treated for a deadly form of cancer when he was 14. We, as a family, also spent many days, weeks, months in this place: crying and laughing; watching fireworks magically unfurl in the dark sky over the Esplanade from windows on the 18th floor of the Ellison Building; waiting in the subterranean operating room holding areas in the warrens beneath the hospital; exploring the empty hallways late at night like the actors in “A Night at the Museum”; holding impromptu guitar jams in Nick’s hospital room; and ringing in the new year with noisemakers, shrimp cocktail and sparkling cider with hospital staff who drew the short straw and had to work on New Year’s Eve.
 
Nick died 12 years ago, so why do I still return to this place each year? It is because Nick, like the other children who were cared for in this huge, often anonymous institution are not forgotten — they are remembered and honored year after year with the annual Pediatric Memorial Service. In this medical mecca, children are not supposed to die. We are fortunate to have some of the best and brightest medical institutions in the world at our doorstep. Reports of miraculous new cures abound in the media, but there are some children who are not the success stories that are highlighted in hospitals’ marketing materials. They are the children who didn’t survive.

Those of us who receive an invitation to return to MGH each year for the Pediatric Memorial Service are a disparate group. Some of our children died when they were adolescents, some when they were in early childhood. Some died from a chronic illness, some from an acute infection or disease, and others suddenly by an accident. We come from different walks of life and professions. We speak different languages. Yet, on this day, year after year, alongside the staff who cared for our children, the barriers are lifted and we are all together as human beings, remembering the stories, sharing a hug, speaking our children’s names, and trying to find meaning in loss. Collectively, we understand the unique grief of losing a child.

The author pictured with her son Nick in 1997. (Courtesy)
The author pictured with her son Nick in 1997. (Courtesy)

Early in my professional career as a nurse, I heard a young physician say, “I don’t do death.” I’m not sure what this statement really meant — perhaps that somehow his superior knowledge could forestall death permanently? — but beyond its arrogance, it spoke of fear and hopelessness. As a society we are very isolated from pediatric death. We are fortunate that in the span of a few short decades we have seen a dramatic decrease in childhood deaths due to vaccines, antibiotics, and advances in medical treatments. But this decrease has created a void in our health care professionals’ ability to know how to deliver care when finding a cure is no longer an option. Our medical and nurse training programs don’t “do death” well either, especially around societal taboos.
A physician at this year’s memorial service gave me hope for the future when she commented that her role as a doctor is to walk the journey with her patients and families and this includes the full spectrum of life and death. We look to our healers to cure us with the modern arsenal of medicine at their disposal, but when a happy ending is no longer possible, shouldn’t it also be their role to help guide us through the fear of the unknown and unthinkable, especially in pediatrics?
Perhaps learning to step into the full spectrum of life and death is the meaning that the children who didn’t survive bring to the practice of medicine. Our kids have become the teachers, no matter how short their lives may have been. Their legacy is to continue to teach the healers how to walk alongside those who are confronting the unimaginable and unbearable with grace, humility and humanity.

So, I guess I keep coming back to walk through the doors of Massachusetts General Hospital year after year to remember, share a story, and to say thank you for honoring these great teachers who keep medicine honest, healing and humble — the kids who didn’t survive.


(Courtesy)

Haiku Rally #3 Morning Coffee

During the month of November I invite you to join me in composing a daily haiku -- a great way to drop into mindfulness during your day. It doesn't take long and you don't need to think of yourself as a poet or author...simply describe what you see around you--in this moment. The difficult part is parsing this down to 17 syllables.


Morning Coffee

Dark, ebony beans
 Aroma mixed into steam
Anticipation

November 4, 2013

Haiku Rally Day 2

Mindfulness is about being present with awareness as our life unfolds, very similar to crafting a haiku. Join me in my month long Haiku Rally by posting your haiku in the comment section below and sharing the Haiku Rally with your friends.

Morning Air

Frost on the pumpkin
Leaves crunching under each step
Breathing in this day

November 3, 2013

Haiku Rally

I am fascinated by the complexity yet the simpleness of haiku. I remember writing haiku in elementary school...carefully choosing words that would fit in the 5-7-5 syllabic pattern. I have recently rediscovered haiku as a way to pare down disparate thoughts and emotions into a mindful moment in time. Capturing a moment in 17 syllables. Here is my haiku for today:

Time Change

Extra hour today
Or so it seems this morning
Precious and fleeting 
Want to join me in capturing moments through haiku? I would love for you to share yours in the comment section of this blog...a grassroots virtual "haiku rally"!