The movement towards a better way of dying focuses on not only our physical selves (“how can we help you be more comfortable?”) but also our social selves (“what is important to you in the days, weeks, months ahead?”) our emotional selves (“who do you need to talk to? What remains unsaid?”) and our spiritual selves (“what supports you spiritually at this time?”)
Pondering the connections between breathing and the divine certainly helps us, in turn, to remember that breathing, that most natural and essential of impulses, is also an engagement with something beyond ourselves.
As we approach the New Year, much of what we see and hear on the media is looking back on what was the best of the year 2019 and what was the worst! I am sometimes uncertain as to whether looking back, dwelling in the past, is helpful or not, however, I was enlightened by an article written by Tim Adams suggesting that looking back improves the look of tomorrow. “Long considered a disorder, nostalgia is now recognised as a powerful tool in the battle against anxiety and depression. Is it healthy to dwell in the past? Up until about 15 years ago, most psychologists would have suggested probably not. The habit of living in memory rather than the present, of comparing how things once were with how things are now, was for several centuries thought at best a trait to avoid and at worst a root cause of depressive illness. Nostalgia was the soldiers’ malady – a state of mind that made life in the here and now a debilitating process of yearning for that which had been lost: rose-tinted peace, happiness, loved ones. It had been considered a psychological disorder ever since the term was coined by a 17th-century Swiss army physician who attributed the fragile mental and physical health of some troops to their longing to return home— nostos in Greek, and algos, the pain that attended thoughts of it.”
Since the turn of this century, however, rather than being a malady, researchers have found that memories can help us feel good about ourselves, make sense of our journey and root us to our history. Nostalgia is both a driver of empathy and social connectedness, and a potent internal antidote for loneliness and alienation—a fact which has led to the beginnings of nostalgia-based therapies for illnesses that include clinical depression and perhaps Alzheimer’s. Some of this research is historical. Researcher, Tim Wildschut, was intrigued by the strong anecdotal evidence of women in concentration camps during the Holocaust who “responded to starvation by waxing nostalgic about shared meals with their families and arguing about recipes and so on.” A concentration camp survivor said: “We used our memories to temporarily alter our perception of the state we were in. It was not a solution, but the temporary change in perception allowed you to persevere just a bit longer. And that could be crucial.” Nostalgia helps build resources like optimism or inspiration or creativity. In difficult situations, nostalgia grounds you and gives you a base on which to evaluate the present as a temporary state, and in doing so it perhaps builds resilience.
I had no idea that nostalgia held such power! As you look back upon this past year and reflect on memories of your life, I hope that those memories strengthen you to look forward to tomorrow with hope and joy. Happy New Year!
Dr. Wayne W. Dyer, internationally known author and speaker in the field of self-development, wrote a book called Change Your Thoughts, Change Your Life—Living the Wisdom of the Tao in which he has written essays on the ancient wisdom of Lao-tzu. The essay on the 22nd verse deals with “Living with Flexibility.” Dyer says, “Having lived by the ocean for years, I’ve observed the beauty and majesty of the tall palm trees that grow at the water’s edge, often measuring 30 or 40 feet in height. These stately giants are able to withstand the enormous pressure that hurricane-force winds bring as they blow at speeds up to 200 miles per hour. Thousands of other trees in the huge storms’ paths are uprooted and destroyed, while the stately palms remain fixed in their rooted selves, proudly holding sway over their otherwise decimated domain. So what is the palm trees’ secret to staying in one piece? The answer is flexibility. They bend almost down to the ground at times, and it’s that very ability that allows them to remain unbroken.”
Living without flexibility in the way we act and see the world leaves us at a disadvantage. Trying to control everything never works out in the long run. We all know people who are rigid and set in their ways who cannot bend or budge. I imagine that each of us have times when we are that way ourselves. The Tao suggests that nurturing flexibility helps us to withstand the storms of life and remain open to all possibilities. If you imagine yourself as a tall, stately palm tree—the wisdom of the Tao would say: When criticism comes, listen. When powerful forces push you in any direction, bow rather than fight, lean rather than break. When you live from the perspective of being able to say, “I don’t know for certain, but I’m willing to listen,” you become a person whom others identify with because your flexibility lets them see that their point of view is welcome. Let go of having to win an argument and being right by changing the atmosphere with a statement such as, “I’ve never considered that point of view. Thank you for sharing your ideas with me.” In this way you give everyone permission to relax their rigidity because you have no need to prove yourself or make others wrong. Let us live the wisdom of the Tao by being flexible in the way we act and see the world.
Much-loved poet, Mary Oliver, died recently at her home in Florida at the age of 83. She lived for many years in Provincetown, Mass., with the love of her life, the photographer Molly Malone Cook. Oliver got a lot of her ideas for poems during long walks — a habit she developed as a kid growing up in rural Ohio. She wrote about one such walk in her poem “The Summer Day”:
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
A friend of Oliver’s described her as “a visionary poet, and she’s also the quintessential tough old broad who finds traces of awe in, for example, scooping out the shining wet pink bladder of a codfish, or getting down on all fours with her dog out in the woods and, for an hour or so … see[ing] the world from the level of the grasses.” What I particularly appreciate about Mary Oliver is that she knew the rewards of paying attention. As Jesus encouraged, she seriously considered the lilies of the field how they grow. Her essay called “Staying Alive,” is about escaping from her difficult childhood into nature and literature. Her work speaks directly to us as human beings in lines such as: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” In her poem, When Death Comes, she beautifully says, “When it’s over, I want to say all my life I was a bride married to amazement.” Writer Ruth Franklin says her work is infused with a deep spirituality. “The way she writes these poems that feel like prayers, she channels the voice of somebody who it seems might possibly have access to God. I think her work does give a sense of someone who is in tune with the deepest mysteries of the universe.” As we move into the dog days of summer, I look forward to reading more of Mary Oliver. What will you be reading?
Country Singer Kenny Chesney sings a great song called “Don’t Blink.” The song’s lyrics tell of a younger man’s encounter with a 102-year-old man who was being interviewed on the news. The interviewer asks the man what’s the secret to life, and the older man looks up from his pipe, laughs, and says, “All I can say is don’t blink”. I have to share just a couple of the verses: I was glued to my TV when it looked like he looked at me and said: “Best start putting first things first” Cause when your hourglass runs out of sand You can’t flip it over and start again. Take every breath God gives you for what it’s worth. Don’t blink, just like that you’re six years old, And you take a nap, And you wake up and you’re twenty-five, And your high school sweetheart becomes your wife. Don’t blink, you just might miss Your babies growing like mine did, Turning into moms and dads, Next thing you know your better half of fifty years is there in bed, And you’re praying God takes you instead. Trust me friend a hundred years, Goes faster than you think, so don’t blink. So I’ve been tryin’ to slow it down. I’ve been tryin’ to take it in, In this here today, gone tomorrow world we’re livin’ in. Don’t blink.
Chris Wallin was inspired to write the song after he lost three major family members within a two-year period. There was a line that he wanted to put in the song that never made it in: “We always send flowers to people when they’re gone. We should send them when they’re living.” Don’t blink. No truer words are there. I was thinking about this when our daughter Maddie came home from college for Spring Break. She is just weeks away from finishing her first year at NAU and we were already talking about what she might do after graduation! How could the years have gone by so fast?! Maddie wants to speed up time and jump to when she’s 21 and free to do what she wants and I know I’m going to blink and she’ll be walking down the aisle getting married. Don’t blink. Time seems to go faster and faster the older you get (the young never believe that). Sometimes it can be helpful to remember that yesterday is gone, tomorrow isn’t here, so today is all we’ve got. The days fly by, but there is only one today so we must rise to each new one determined to make it count. What will you make of today? Maybe do something to make life better for someone other than yourself or do something that will make a memory. Do something you’ve never done before. Do something fun and funny. Talk to someone you haven’t talked to in a long time—call them up or write a letter. Tell them that you love them because you may never get to say it again. Don’t blink.
Recently I found myself saying to Chaplain Andrew that “I would sleep on it and give him the decision in the morning.” Something was still unsettled in my mind and I knew that I needed time and the renewal of sleep to make the best decision. It is amazing and often disconcerting how the mind keeps working when it is supposed to be resting. Sometimes my most creative sermon writing comes when I’m napping or sleeping. It’s taken awhile for me to learn the advantages of napping. Taking a power nap is tricky though, it can’t be too long because then I feel groggy for the rest of the day, an hour or so usually seems about right. I remember times when I laid down to take a quick cat nap and woke up hours later. Studies have shown that power naps can boost your memory, cognitive skills, creativity, mood and energy level!
Rev. Maren Tirabassi is a U.C.C. pastor in New Hampshire and she has written a delightful piece on naps in the Bible. She says, “Jacob ran, scared to death of his brother Esau who was … huge. Exhausted in the wilderness, he put his head on a rock and dreamed a legislature of angels. Jacob woke knowing God was in every scary place or runaway journey, but only because sleep gave the dreaming a chance. Joseph of Nazareth planned to send away his beloved Mary, because that’s how being hurt and angry works. Then he decided to sleep on it, and the rest was … well, Christmas! Jesus was taking a power nap in the boat between healings and teachings when a storm blew up. They had to shake him awake before he could say “peace, be still.” Only later he complained, “O you of little naps …” And that’s not mentioning Nebuchadnezzar’s nightmare of conscience, Jonah’s snooze below decks before taking responsibility for his actions, the warning to the magi that there is always another way home, or the raising of Eutychus, the teenager who fell out the window reminding us that long sermons can be a form of melatonin.
Long ago and this week, the chance to actually experience a dream of hope, the pause that shifts an emotion-driven decision, the renewal of strength and faith to face any storm—they all come from sleep. Sleep gives energy, focus, creativity. Sleep weaves the frayed memory, improves the unreliable temper, and always makes working with the ragtag, clueless, practically disciple-esque folks in our resistance possible.”
When all else fails sometimes it’s best to just take a nap.*
Creativity, seen or unseen, is a natural part of the human condition. To not be creative is to not live into the fullness of who we are created to be. Throughout our Campus community, there are as many forms of creativity at work as there are people. We create relationships, conversations, new lives, homes, hospitality, as well as works of prose, art, music or crafts. In other words, this Campus is as much a venue for creativity as the Symphony Hall downtown.
Creativity is also often connected to personal cost. Many authors, writers, artists and musicians produce their most inspired work during difficult times.
There seems to be a profound connection between brokenness and openness in music, art and literature. Perhaps it is in the ‘telling of the tale’ that light can begin to penetrate the darkness of strain and suffering. As Leonard Cohen sang: “There is a crack… in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”
In the gospels, when Mary of Bethany came to Jesus to anoint him with costly perfume, its sweet fragrance could only be released when the alabaster jar was broken. Creativity very often happens, not in spite of – but because of – brokenness. It is in going through the difficult challenges life inevitably throws at us that increases our potential for growth in our relationships and pursuits. A broken heart can become an opened heart.
As a Christian, I believe we are made in the image and likeness of God, and with that I believe we have the ability and vocation to be co-creators with God.
Living into our creative abilities isn’t all about painting, writing or sculpting, especially when we do so with an open and enquiring heart. Eckhart Tolle reminded us that we all have the power to create something far more beautiful; “the power for creating a better future is contained in the present moment. You create a good future by creating a good present”. May we all celebrate the many unseen and unsung acts of creativity, beauty and kindness that quietly take place here in our community each and every day.*
As you read this article, Chaplain Andrew and I will be in Chicago at the 7th International Conference on Aging and Spirituality which began in Canberra, Australia in 2000 and until the 2015 Conference, all were held in countries of the British Commonwealth: Australia, New Zealand, England and Scotland. This is the second time it will be held in the United States and Andrew and I are excited to attend. These conferences include voices from many parts of the world, voices from the domains of the academic and the aging services, voices from various faith traditions and voices representing the “spiritual, but not religious,” and they include a mixture of keynote speakers, workshops and papers of interest to those coming from a faith based approach and to those approaching spirituality from a secular viewpoint.
We will be meeting at the historic campus of Concordia University, Chicago which has a Center for Gerontology (the study of aging and older adults). The conference theme is “Transition and Transcendence: Transforming Aging through Spirituality.” Together we will explore navigating the transitions of aging, how transcendence is experienced in times of change, and how the experience of aging and our understanding of it can be transformed. “How do we, as persons who are growing older ourselves and who serve older adults, encourage ourselves and encourage them to find the spiritual paths and practices that will sustain them – and us – through hard change and loss? And how does our spirituality help us to move from focusing on our own needs and pains to seeing ourselves as part of a wider world, where, in spite of limitations, there is still much we can offer and needs we can meet? How do we engage the wider cultures in which we live in conversation about the possibilities and promises of aging in the midst of all these transitions? In short, how can we harness the power of the spirit available to all of us to transform aging wherever we live?”
It is exciting that Andrew is one of the presenters speaking on: “The Road Goes Ever On – Viewing Aging As A Step On Our Spiritual Pilgrimage.” In his presentation, Andrew will be using the experiences of many people here at the Campus to demonstrate how beneficial it is to see aging not as a dilemma, but rather as an essential and beneficial part of our life-long quest for self-understanding and spiritual growth.
Having never been to Chicago, I am looking forward to seeing new sights and learning new insights. Plus, I’ve heard they have some pretty good pizza! Look for a future article in which we will share about our experience.
*By the way, the word “ageing” in the title is not a typo. The Conference comes from other parts of the world, where they spell it as “ageing” rather than how we spell it here in the United States – “aging.”
