Relativity & Enduring

Someone accidentally drew my attention today, to the fact that the blog has gone unattended for... a while... nearly four years. Yet it seems a blink-of-the-eye until I stop to reflect on all that has happened, and then again it can still seem a blink-of-the eye. Or maybe one of those "wrinkles" in time...or a quantum leap of some sort...

In the middle, my mom died, my dad's dementia went into high gear~as did various other medical issues he had~my kitty died, one of the new adopted baby kittens died when anesthetized for her spaying, my dad died.... three more new kitties came into my life ~ and a son-in-law...  I could go on...  And that's just the mere microcosm of one woman's life...

So I've been living, not just thinking, about loss. About transiency. About what endures. About life. About death.
About faith.
About hope.
About love.
About reality and illusion.
About relativity and perspective.
About the saving of starfish, one at a time.

In the end, my family therapy teacher, Edwin Friedman, was right: "There are those times in life when all you have is yourself, your Book, and your God." Ed was a rabbi turned psychologist, a somewhat odd, but very wise man. 

If you're very lucky and/or very blessed, you might also have a friend who helps you save the starfish that have washed up on the beach. One.by.One. I am a lucky, blessed woman. Thank you JCC. 
I love you.

Advent musings

I like Advent. I like its liturgical color, blue. I like the extra candles, the sense of movement in the church year binding first and last things, endings and beginnings, creation and recreation, incarnation and redemption, story and promise, repentance and hope, sin and grace.

I liked Advent as a child, back when the color was purple. Though I surely did not understand why Advent felt the way it did, I had dutifully learned that Advent means "coming, " and that Jesus was coming. The expectancy of his coming was palpable, at church and at home, despite the competition from St. Nick.

A bit of age has brought me a deep appreciation for the simple complexity of the season. Historically, it's a season of waiting, watching, preparation, penance, and prayer -- all somewhat somber -- but hidden within it, on the 3rd of its 4 Sundays, the color is PINK! And the theme of the day is JOY! "Rejoice, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold your sovereign comes to you..." Already, and not yet.

It's not unlike the therapeutic process. There's a lot of waiting that goes on in it: waiting for clients' timing and readiness, waiting to see "what happens next." Waiting and watching, staying attentive and attuned to clients' deepest sorrows and pain, terrors and rage. Waiting and watching, as their healing process works deep within, with "sighs too deep for words." Waiting and watching, sometimes week after week, even year after year, waiting for the pink to emerge, living in hope for the freedom of the already-and-not-yet healing being wrought, deep within.

And I realize the extent to which EMDR and Brainspotting have taught me how to wait and watch, with patience and curiosity, with humility and steadfastness, whether in the therapy room, or in life. To wait and watch for "what comes next," to receive it for what it is, in open expectancy for all that is to come.

I like Advent.

"Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel has come to you..."