A Mindful and Joyful Thanksgiving

When we give cheerfully and accept gratefully, everyone is blessed.
— Maya Angelou

Thanksgiving is a whirlwind of activity: cleaning, shopping, cooking, cleaning, driving, making beds, doing laundry, raking leaves, cooking, baking, cleaning. Thanksgiving is a holiday whose sole purpose is appreciation and gratitude and yet with all of this activity—the purpose more often feels like getting to the other side of it. You want it go well, you want it to go smoothly, you want it to be done.

Thanksgiving is a holiday I have shared with a lot of families and friends over the years—and though the basic outline of the celebration was the same (people, turkey, gathering) –what made each Thanksgiving sparkle so differently was the areas of joy that each host had—whether it was the traditional drinks or appetizers of that family, the walk in the woods, the way they set their tables, the work in the kitchen, the love of football, the traditional thanksgiving movie, stories at the table. There was always something that was so dear to their hearts that they were able to share a heart-full of appreciation and gratitude in whatever that was for them. So many years later I don’t remember whether the day went without a hitch, or whether everything was ‘perfect’—I remember the joy of whatever they really wanted to share. Those moments of joy have stayed with me, and every Thanksgiving I think of those moments, and the people who so generously shared them with me.

So, how do you slow down enough in the midst of all this busyness? How do you experience the joy of the day and share that joy with the people around you? The answer is always mindfulness. Mindfulness is the practice of being in the present moment and the research on mindfulness tells us that even moments of mindfulness are enough to shift our mood to a more positive place and supports our health and well-being. Just moments. This is really the practice of being where your feet are, as my therapist so often reminds me. In fact—a simple practice to be where your feet are is simply to wiggle your toes. Feel your feet. If you are standing, feel the ground beneath your feet.

Amidst all of the busyness of the day—can you remind yourself to take a breath and be where you are? Look around and smile, even as you know that your kitchen is a disaster of flour and gravy? Even as you know that everything is not going to be done when you planned? In fact---can you even be so radical as to enjoy the chaos for a moment? Look at it, laugh and see the big picture?

One of my favorite Thanksgiving memories was in fact one of my biggest Thanksgiving mistakes. I had gotten up early to get two large turkeys in the oven. My mother-in-law had left me a big bowl of onions and celery and instructions that dried sage was hanging in their walk-in entry. I made the stuffing, found the sage, stuffed the turkeys and everyone came down to breakfast. My mother-in-law went in to the entry and asked why I hadn't used the sage. I said I had and pointed to it. Only it wasn't the sage. I had used Artemesia Silverking--a dried perennial that looks somewhat like sage. There were a few moments of panic as we read whether Artemesia was poisonous. And then lots of laughter after we found it out it wasn't poisonous, in fact it was used as an herbal remedy: it was an aphrodisiac. 

People don’t remember perfection and neither will you. It’s like going to a concert or an opera – you don’t remember all the words of the songs you hear—but somehow you take refrains of the melodies with you. You remember the colors and the music. So slow down enough to listen to the melodies. Slow down enough to dance with the people who are around you. Slow down enough to hum your joy of the day, and share your song with others. 

© Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD 2014

It's way bigger than Ferguson

If its interest in truth is linked only to amnesty and compensation, then it will have chosen not truth, but justice. If it sees truth as the widest possible compilation of people’s perceptions, stories, myths, and experiences, it will have chosen to restore memory and foster a new humanity, and perhaps that is justice in its deepest sense.
— Antje Krog, Country of My Skull

Healing repeated or long term trauma requires repetition. Lots and lots and lots of repetition. It takes repetition because it takes a long time to get the story out. It takes repetition because it takes a long time to dismantle the defenses, the protections from the trauma enough to even get to the story. It takes repetition because after all of that you still have the work of rebuilding, of experiencing and living in the new space without the trauma. It takes a lot of repetition.

No one likes to hear this. Our culture has always liked an approach where we are ‘done’ with that. Where it is ‘over.’ And instead, healing from long term trauma means that we cycle back around at different intervals through the same material, through the same discussions, through the same lessons, to integrate it once more, to feel it once more, to learn it again and again. Our brains are made of massive interconnections—not a series of on and off switches. The neural pathways of survival that trauma triggers do not untangle easily.

Today as the country wrestles with Ferguson, I see how our belief that trauma is ‘done’ impacts not only individual trauma survivors, but our nation as a whole. The long term, intergenerational trauma of slavery and racism is not ‘done.’ The civil rights movement wasn’t the end of healing. It might have been the beginning of it, except that white America saw that as the moment that we were ‘done’ with the conversation—instead of the moment that we began the conversation.

This is not about the specifics of the Ferguson story—about Darren Wilson or Michael Brown. While I am not denying the importance of the specifics to the individuals involved, the story is much bigger than the specifics.  When we let our arguments over specifics distract us, then we never have to get to the bigger story of intergenerational trauma. No one has to own the story of wrong doing and no one has to mourn the losses that wrong doing engendered.

When people argue specifics they think they are going after truth. When I worked with children who changed their stories of abuse—when they couldn’t remember whether they were hit on Tuesday or Saturday, at home or at the park—the specifics mattered only for legal purposes of what we call truth—but there was always the bigger truth that the child was living in fear— that we were dealing with trauma, regardless of the specifics. And the specifics of any one case involving race and violence aside, we have to be able to acknowledge the bigger truth that our racial history in America is a trauma history.

When the three young women from Ohio who were kidnapped by Ariel Castro were found after 9 years in captivity—there was the constant refrain of whether they could ever be whole and healthy again after so much time in such horrible conditions. No one imagined they would ever be ‘over it.’ They had spent a third of their lives that way. Yet, for more than ¾ of our nation’s history Blacks lived in either outright captivity or in a state where their full rights as citizens were denied. Why does everyone think this is supposed to go away so quickly? It’s because we wish it would. It’s hard to have conversations that are awkward and messy. It’s hard to not know. It’s hard to sit in conversations of sadness and anger and not be able to ‘fix it’ because it’s not about the specifics but about the bigger story.

The main avenue of communication—the media --is never going to help our country with this problem. Indeed the need to fill a 24 hour news cycle with opinion and not news is fueling the problem. No, we all have to be the ones to change the conversation. To acknowledge the long history of trauma that our country has endured and perpetrated. And we have to be willing to have this conversation over and over.

It’s not the answer anyone wants: that it’s going to take a long time, that it’s going to take a lot of repetition, that it’s going to be messy. But at least if we start, if we risk the conversation, if we acknowledge the trauma and the losses, we have a chance at something real and something whole. 

© Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD 2014    

 

Giving Thanks: The 5 best Websites to Support your Gratitude Practice

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What better time of year to strengthen the practice of gratitude than a holiday designed in its honor. Gratitude is a state, and it is a practice. Research has shown that just the act of attending to what you are grateful for is enough to bolster your sense of well-being and even some health indicators! Gratitude is healing because it can fill in and support you when hope seems to fail.  Gratitude builds hope. Below is a list of websites to help you expand and deepen your practice of gratitude and give you some tools and new ideas. They are 5 websites you can truly be grateful for!

http://www.gratefulness.org

This website has gratefulness news, articles, practices and poetry. Gratefulness.org gives you a place to support your gratefulness habits. There are also e-courses and a newsletter you can sign up for.

http://thankfulfor.com

At Thankfulfor you can set up your own gratitude journal --and strengthen your daily practice. (or you could just buy a cheap notebook, but I don't have a link for that :) 

http://www.unstuck.com/gratitude.html

Unstuck is a website and an app that gives you insight and tools to tap in to your gratitude and power.

http://greatergood.berkeley.edu/expandinggratitude

To support their 5.6 million dollar initiative, Expanding the Science and Practice of Gratitude, Berkley and Davis have teamed up to give you this informative website. It gives you research, science, public education initiatives, and resources. You can even take a gratitude quiz!

http://welovegratitude.com

On Welovegratitude you can read gratitude lists from others to inspire you and warm your heart—and you can create lists for others—and add to the well of gratitude.

 

To Climb Back Singing...

...climb back singing.
Climb praising as you return to connection.
Here among the disappearing, in the realm of the transient, be a ringing glass that shatters as it rings.
— Rilke, Sonnets to Orpheus

Every single war has its refugees. You leave the place you call home for an unknown, and often hard won safety, which often doesn’t feel safe, even when it is. Whether you must leave the country or town you call your home or whether you must abandon the self that you once knew. Either way it is fast, and there is no going back. There is no war without some sort of flight. And through flight you are changed.

Flight at its worst is yet another horrible trauma. I know of families, the Vietnamese Boat People, who fled Vietnam in boats. We always thought that once they were in the boats they had gotten out. I have since learned of the unspeakable atrocities they endured during their journey, as bad or sometimes worse than the war itself. Their journey was yet a different war. And the Cambodians I met who also had survived a terrible genocide only to endure a terrible journey to the Thai border and then often years in the refugee camps.

Flight at its best is bittersweet. This weekend I heard stories from people who fled West during World War II at the end of the war who were taken in by host families—given beds and food and time and care. Kindness after horror is almost always bittersweet: there is such relief to feel kindness and have hope once again in humanity—but it is also true that in relief that you can also suddenly feel the loss of what has happened.

But the first kindnesses after flight are typically physical and practical: food, water, shelter, sleep--relative safety. These are obvious necessities for war refugees, but they are also the foundation for the refugee of any trauma: when you been torn from or had to abandon your old self or your old life because of trauma. This could be violence, it could be an complicated illness or a tragic death. You are suddenly torn from the life you knew and now find yourself wandering elsewhere without a map. What every single refugee needs, regardless of trauma are these very physical and practical things. You can’t heal from trauma without this start.

Flight is often a complete and overwhelming blur of experiences that don’t seem to connect. You are finally able to sleep as you haven’t slept in days or years—only to wake up and find that it all really happened. You are in a world you didn’t choose and you can’t go back. You recognize the help and kindnesses of others and you know they are good, but often you cannot feel it. And that is as it should and must be. All of your energy must go to the physical and the practical. All the rest of your energy can go to securing a foothold in hope and the future. Only when these things are stable can you begin to feel the good—because our feeling bodies cannot manage selectivity: either we feel in a range of feelings or we don’t feel. For better or worse our capacity to really experience our feelings is all or nothing.

Which is why flight from trauma is a very long journey. Yes, you may be physically safe—with food and water and shelter.  And you may feel real relief for the safety you experience compared to your war. But it may be months or years even decades until you feel in your heart, in your being that you are home, that you belong, that you are no longer at war or fleeing or preparing for another war or another flight. You must wait until you are safe enough and strong enough to make the next step of your journey into healing. 

© Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD 201