MymudpieS

I have always enjoyed silence. Ever since I was a young girl, there existed this craving for my own headspace, a place to think and explore, a place devoid of distraction. Silence was my pensive bedrock.

But then along came…Jim Croce. Who knew Time Came in a Bottle? My craving for silence was suddenly gone and before I knew it, the party was out of control. Bread showed up totally uninvited and brought America and yes, you guessed it…Captain and Tennille with their six-pack of Muskrat Love! My heart was branded . I suddenly had a sacred jukebox filled with rich melodies at the ready, to replenish my soul . My musical salve.

Lately, I’ve started that old jukebox up again. In an effort to replace the crazy making news and bring it down a notch, I’ve found a way to give myself a daily dose of dopamine. I’m now moved by the lyrics and tempo of REM, Cat Steven, George Michael…’Ya gotta have faith’.

As the years have passed, I have unknowingly added layer upon layer to my musical bedrock. Each layer, a unique color and composite of emotionally laden melodies, laced with life experiences. Both, so tightly woven together that I can be transported back in time by that first chord or musical intro. I’m suddenly a sad little 13 yr old girl, crushed under the weight of her first break up or an overly confident teen celebrating her best “Farrah” hair day, ever! Totally!

I’m sure much of music’s calming effect comes from it’s ability to take us back to a simpler time. But perhaps it’s also because it feels effortless. And nothing, lately, has felt effortless. I miss effortless-ness. Don’t you? I miss predictability . This pandemic has ruined my song. It has robbed me of my life’s rhythm, as I knew it. Just as my MS diagnosis did. Just as any life-altering event for any of us has done. We are thrown off course, our melodies seemingly lost at times. But just as I cling to the familiar, I find myself searching for new melodies.

The cadence in the voices of those I hold dear, the morning wren singing out to his partner, the belly laugh of a child, or the sound of our sweet dog’s toenails on the hardwood floor. These are the melodies in my life that I can easily allow to be overridden by life’s chaos and absurdity.

So, my wish is that we all find our new rhythm of life. That we cling to our old melodies while forging new ones. We will never all be on the same sheet of music. Nor will our days be filled with only sweet notes. There will be weeks lacking perfect pitch and month’s of slowed tempo. The lyrics will be foreign to our ears. Life is far from effortless right now but we will get back to that flow, that rhythm of life that sustains us and feeds us. The “key” is to be part of the songwriting, in whatever capacity we can muster. Help to write a song that we can sing “ in perfect harmony”. Ahhh…an ice cold Coke!

So, turn off the news, plug in your music , and find your rhythm of life.

As I listened to a late show commentary on You Tube last week, something resonated with me. He was talking about how we are being lulled into thinking that we only have two choices in this country, as we navigate these times. Black vs. White, Fox vs. CNN, Blue pill vs. Red pill, Science vs. Conspiracy, Boomer vs. Gen XYZ…It’s crazy making!!!

I instantly thought of my last eye exam and the line up of different strength lenses flashing before my eyes. Which is better? One or two? Again…One or two? The initial decisions are so easy , instilling a false sense of confidence in my hawkish decisiveness. Bring it on Holmes! Then I start to second guess myself , as the disparity in the lens strengths presented to me, start to diminish and the “choices” are perceivably the same! And just as I’ve convinced myself that I flunked the test and am getting expelled from school…viola! My unique prescription is forged. Giving me the best chance for visual clarity , but more importantly, making me look more intelligent/mysterious than I am.

But humans are not like computers. Our innate coding language is not binary. We are complex and unique and multi-factorial. We are constantly adapting. Refocusing as we learn. Most of America is made up of stuff in the middle . Yet, our mainstream broadcast news and our disconnected , egomaniacal political leaders need to keep us polarized. Pick a team!! When we are divided we are weakened. All of our energy is funneled into fighting over who is right and who is wrong. It’s conscious sedation for the masses. And it’s working!

One thing is clear. We need to open our eyes to the fact that we have many choices and opinions and “lenses” through which we can interpret our own world. It’s not a “One size fits all” prescription. One person’s vision of freedom and civil liberty may seem myopic to another. In reality, this novel virus is taking us all on a ride with no clear path or end-point. And although, as a pediatrician, I gravitate towards protecting our healthcare workers, witnessing first-hand the power of infectious disease and the devastation it’s spread can bring…that is my truth…my lens. Regardless of everyone’s differing refractions, we all need to respect and fear the innate intelligence of any virus to take over the steering wheel and turn it’s host’s defense system onto a path of self-destruction.

So I am trying to envision a future in which we have multiple choices with which to fight this war, not just one or two. I don’t want to wear rose-colored glasses nor lose my ability to refocus. But rather, I’d like to think of the visible spectrum of light as my beacon. My “ROYGBIV”. I need to allow for differences of opinion, try to understand choices made by others as seen through a different lens. Try to choose grace and kindness as my default settings while staying true to myself.

And after every rainstorm, I purposefully seek out the magic of the universe in search of that amazing spectrum of light that keeps me grounded. Then I try to find my damned glasses, pour myself a glass of wine, open a bag of Skittles and “ taste the rainbow”.

What is it about a hug that quenches our thirst? The reassurance and physical affirmation that I gleaned from a simple embrace was something, I now realize, I’d taken for granted. Add it to the list!

Without the hug in my personal arsenal of love, I feel a bit more vulnerable, like a fish out of water. I’m realizing that without this perfectly simple act of physicality, that can convey all that I feel in one fell swoop, I have to verbalize my emotions. I have to risk the vulnerability of saying “ I love you” and fear lack of reciprocity.

So now that a hug is not always an option, I find myself giving verbal hugs. Is it possible to hug someone verbally or visually with no touch. Of course, the answer is “hell no!” No matter how we try to duplicate it…with the smell of fresh bread, a deeper smile, a more purposeful moment of eye contact or when all else fails, a Zoom Happy Hour…it just doesn’t quite cut it for me!

A hug says…I love you. I care. You matter. I need you. You need me. ( Cue…Barney coming’ in for the big purple hug) It says…Thank you. You’re essential. You matter to me.

Some hugs are obligatory pats or salutations. Some are an embrace, a long cool drink or a warm cozy blanket. But no matter the flavor, a hug always energizes me and confirms my existence. It reminds me that I have a physical presence attached to this soul, on this earth, at this moment. It grounds me.

So amidst this insane and “ other-worldly “ social distancing , give yourself a hug. Embrace your strengths. Forge new ways of self-care. Indulge for a bit but don’t forget that you and your health are essential not only to yourself, but to those you love. Know that what you create matters. Truly, you are huggable!

And when this pandemic is more fully controlled and we can freely embrace without fear of contagion, my hope is that we will cherish our hugs a bit more. And that which we couldn’t quite put into words, would be wrapped up once again in a sweet, savory hug.

The air smelled clean and crisp.The birds chirped uninterrupted. The sky seemed bluer to me. Without the constant sound of cars whizzing by, I was able to think. To appreciate this freedom of being able to walk and breathe and be alive.

And as I savored all of these freedoms, once kind of taken for granted, I saw my neighbor’s flag gently and majestically swaying in the breeze. At that moment, I started reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. I hadn’t even thought about saying those words since my elementary school days . I suddenly had a flash back of that heavenly, cold chocolate milk I devoured daily from it’s cute little carton and double checking to make sure I had shorts on under my dress so I could swing on the monkey bars…I wasn’t even sure I would remember the words.

“ I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America…” My heart felt heavy as my hand palpated every beat. My hand felt purposeful and important, as if it were interpreting some sort of new morse code with each beat. I began to think about this word, allegiance. It’s not part of my daily lexicon. I knew it meant some sort of blind loyalty to a superior entity. But, thanks to my smart phone, I also learned that allegiance can mean devotion to a person, group, or cause.

Bingo!! To me, this word encapsulates what I was feeling that morning. We are showing allegiance to our neighbors, our community, our first responders and our high risk citizens, by simply staying home. We are saving lives. Who knew that staying home was a superpower?

Perhaps this pandemic has distilled our nation down to a commonality our generation has never had to define. Generations before us living through the Great Depression or war , know it. Those of us old enough to have realized the gravity of that moment in September, as we watched the planes fly into the towers and felt our hearts stop beating, know it. Allegiance was what was needed to band together for a common good. Even though we didn’t have a picture of what that might look like, we felt it.

And so that is what we are doing . We are banding together for a common good and it is working! We are learning the importance of allegiance, both globally and at home. Watching the globe light up in this infectious web, illuminates our interconnectivity. It sheds light on the sad fact that we are too dependent on outside resources but also reminds us that we are all humans on one sphere.

Allegiance to our species, our nation, our governors, our first responders, our healthcare workers, our delivery drivers and grocery workers…at every level imaginable.That’s what is being asked of us. It feels daunting to me but when I break it down to my own community and my own self and my own daily actions, it feels digestible and empowering.

So, as we enter this Brave New World, with it’s rules being written as we speak and it’s unforeseen consequences as yet to be felt, my hope is that we don’t forget the importance of allegiance. Allegiance to our evolving definition of community. Allegiance to our newfound commonality of humanity and survival. Allegiance to compassion and helping thy neighbor. Allegiance all the way down to the one common denominator, ourselves. “ To thine own self be true.”

…with liberty and justice for all.

Having the strength to face adversity and pain with courage. That’s fortitude.

I guess I have never really had to ask myself if I had enough fortitude. I have always assumed that I had it. I know I had enough fortitude to get me through endless nights of studying as a med student, 36 hour stretches of staying awake as a resident, and the pain of realizing that I couldn’t save every patient from the ravages of disease. Fortitude got me through sleepless nights as a young mother and unforeseen personal and family crises. Is it a virtue, a practice, a belief? What is fortitude?

Regardless of how we define it, the amount of fortitude needed to conquer this pandemic, this infectious tsunami overtaking our nation, is unfathomable. It’s needed from every societal level, all the way from our governmental response , through the private sector, down to how we treat those around us.

And today, as I helplessly watch our healthcare workers risking their lives with inadequate protection and seemingly unheard pleas for help…more masks, more tests, more ventilators, more personnel…I’m realizing, we weren’t prepared. We don’t have it in time. Although this was predicted by many experts and “futuristic “ TED talks, our government chose not to listen. Instead, they chose to pour trillions into multimillion dollar planes, tanks, ships and subs…weapons much needed in wars past. An arsenal much needed to protect the courageous men and women whom have protected MY freedom and are still doing so. We have poured trillions into this “for-profit” military industry. So where is the arsenal our “troops”, our doctors and nurses and respiratory techs need to go to battle to protect themselves and us now?

We are at war with inadequate weapons, fighting a foe like never before seen in our lifetimes. And I’m realizing that we are going to have to muster up as much fortitude as we can to survive this. For many, it won’t be enough, sadly. But, we are a nation of unbelievable natural resources. The ability to show compassion, find solutions, and give true support for those around us, is there. We are facing adversity and fear and dissolution of our societal connectedness, as we have known it. It’s hard to cling to those we love when we can’t even be near them, when we have to blow kisses through the nursing home window or fear killing them with a simple hug. It’s hard to weave into our psyche. It’s hard to face the reality that we are asking our physicians and nurses and public healthcare workers to go into battle with inadequate supplies and resources , not only needed to protect those they swore to protect, but also themselves.

So, I’m thinking fortitude may be the only weapon in our personal arsenal right now. It may mean waking each day with the singular goal of staying strong and doing the right thing. The time for blame is past us. We are in survival mode now. So, if it means staying home, instead of partying or socializing with our friends, in order to diminish the height of this tidal wave overtaking our healthcare system…so be it. If it means facing months of calling, FaceTiming, emailing those we love, instead of physical contact…so be it. If it means putting the needs of others in front of our own…so be it. We’ve all lived our lives doing this already, but never in this context or with this set of rules.

But maybe that’s what fortitude is all about. It’s adapting to what is. We all have it in us. It’s what makes us human. It may be only real weapon we have to face this well predicted but unprecedented time.

Exposed. That’s what hit me. Erosion had swept away most all of it’s soil, exposing it’s vast root system. I had passed this thriving tree for years now as I walked my dog along the bank of this meandering stream. But now, I had a glimpse of what was keeping it upright, despite the current’s effort to wash it downstream. To see how the roots were stretching toward the remaining soil to stabilize and nourish this little tree, was astonishing to me.

It got me thinking about what my root system looked like? What was below my surface? How intricate and strong was my underground circuitry? Perhaps, it’s is hard to put into words or even unknown to us until we need it?

When I was diagnosed with M.S., I wasn’t sure how I was going to weather the storm. I don’t think I actually knew I had a root system so strong and fiercely self-protective. I guess I had always just seen myself from above soil line. A stubborn little girl and self-sufficient teen. An independent young woman and giving physician. A loving wife and protective mother. A supportive daughter, connected sister and loyal friend. But when my branches were rattled and all of my leaves swept away, I felt broken and weak. Yet, that’s when I realized I was more than meets the eye. That’s when I realized I had roots…My strong husband and loving sons, my dear parents and siblings, my faithful friends and loyal dog, my faith in a higher power and in my inner power to seek out what I needed to thrive.

We have so many storms ahead, just as we have so many behind us. Life’s eroding forces never give up. We cant take our root system for granted. Its there waiting to be acknowledged and needed. So struggle, screw up, be vulnerable, be forgiving of your weaknesses and thankful for your strengths. Sing your own praises and release your true talents. Feed your roots and in return, they will give you resilience and strength. Strength to stand tall and be rooted.

The most complex and robust wines come from the most struggling vines with the scrappiest leaves. A struggling vine may produce less grapes but more flavor. Grapes grown in poor soil with limited water can grow 30 feet deep to get what they need and produce a wine with the most intricate bouquet. So struggling is good? Darn you Mother Nature…You did it again, reminding us that you have so many cool analogies to guide us on our journeys. You are the RBG of the natural world!

We have so many storms to weather. Storms survived and storms yet to come. Life’s erosive forces never give up. So struggle, screw up, be vulnerable, take chances, envision your goals, forgive yourself for your weaknesses and embrace your strengths. Realize your true talents and let them flow. Feed your roots, and in return they will give you the resilience and strength you need to stand tall and stay rooted.

If I hadn’t forgotten my phone that cold November morning, I never would have noticed the color of her eyes. They were a pristine blue-green, the color of Caribbean waters. Our paths had crossed every morning while walking our dogs. And every morning our dogs greeted each other, completing their ritualistic hellos, as she and I traded niceties.

If I hadn’t forgotten my phone, I never would have heard of her loneliness since losing her husband of fifty years. I never would have known of her severe arthritis and courage to push her 78 yr old arthritic joints to carry on every day and walk her sweet Spaniel. I never would have shared that moment of mutual sadness over loss or getting old. I never would have been able to brighten her day by listening to her grief and agreeing that life’s mantra just has to be “One Day At a Time”.

So, as I said ” Have a good day” and trotted off with my dog, tears welled up in my eyes, I wondered about how many other moments of engagement have I missed in my life?

If I hadn’t forgotten my phone, I would have been unavailable to “see” that moment coming. I would have been unavailable to “see” her. So I came home, had my second cup of coffee, and pondered about how many more moments of connectivity I have left on my journey. How many more paths are out there that I will have missed because I wasn’t looking? Is there a road less traveled that I need to find or better yet, needs to find me?

I guess my newest vow is to make more eye contact and be eager to connect. To seek out those moments or unclear paths that are right under my nose or in my line of vision. How many more unique eye colors are out there waiting to be deciphered? How many more life stories are hiding behind those eyes?

So, I am casting my vote this holiday season to be less plugged in and more available . I vote for engagement and connectivity. Yes, indeed…the “eyes” have it!

Dreamy

There is a season-turn, turn, turn…And a time to every purpose under Heaven.”

Such great lyrics etched in my mind from the 60’s rock band, The Byrds. If you are too young to remember this classic oldie, it’s basically a beautifully harmonized ballad reminding us that everything has to change. I guess I’m one of those souls that has a hard time remembering that fact. I like predictability and control. But as I was walking my sweet dog this am, thankful for that extra layer I threw on as I bolted out the door and getting overtaken by the crisp smell of autumn leaves, this song just popped into my head. I felt a bizarre mixture of melancholy and hope.  Isn’t it so weird how certain smells and songs can transport us instantaneously back to our childhood, sending us on a time-travel adventure before we even know what hits us?

As a little girl on the farm, the autumn changes brought with them both feelings of sadness and excitement. I guess it’s arrival meant an end to summer and the beginning of a new school year. Saying good bye to my summertime freedom but looking forward with trepidation and excitement to another chapter in my life. One step closer to being my own boss…yes…to being grown up!

I always longed to be a grown-up. I used to hike past the rows of corn to a little stretch of trees behind our house. It was there that, every fall, I would rake the fallen leaves into rows. The rows became walls. The walls became my little imaginary house. The house became my solace. Within these walls, I did what I wanted. No one was in charge of me but me. And although I did have the occasional unruly visitor, either my dog Pete or some frenetic, cracked-out squirrel, for the most part, it was my space. The space that allowed me to imagine what it would be like to be a grown-up. I wouldn’t have to answer to anyone. I could eat what I wanted, when I wanted. I could design my day with disregard to others. It would be glorious to be grown up!

Then, I realized I had to actually go to school if I wanted to be a grown-up. Then, I realized I had to get good grades to become a grown-up doctor. Then, I realized I had to study in order to get those good grades to be that grown-up doctor. Then, I realized I needed a job to buy grown-up stuff and pay grown-up bills. Then, I realized I needed to create my own grown-up happiness in order to attract my grown-up soulmate so we could create our own grown-up family. Then, I realized the gravity of knowing that as a grown-up parent, I had the safety and well-being of another’s life in my hands.  Then, I realized that being grown-up meant accepting the randomness of life and disease and still finding joy in the midst of evil.

Then, I realized…somewhere along this path to being grown up, I longed to be a child again. To be able to still be astonished at the complexity of a bird’s song or to crave the feeling of the cool grass under my bare feet. To not be paralyzed by fear of embarrassment or failure. To not only be able to realize the joy all around me but to actually seek it out, like I did as a little girl. Or better yet, create my own joy.

So, as I embrace the changing of another season and smell the anticipation in the autumn air, I long to be a child again. Just as I embraced that random memory of melancholy and hope, triggered by no less than a simple waft that I chose to acknowledge, so shall I remind myself that I never have lose the child within me. She’s there behind that cloak of responsibility I put on everyday.  All I need to do is conjure her up by vowing to never stop asking questions, never stop learning, never stop seeing what’s right in front of me, never stop marveling at the enormity of life and never stop celebrating.

So, back to those iconic lyrics…

” A time to gain, a time to lose. A time to mend, a time to sew. A time for love, a time for hate. A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late!”