I saw a single sail from the corner of my imagination. It stretched my sight until I could finally see again. Renewing my love for all the things we cannot see anymore. The joy of imagining that we lose as we lose our inner child. I saw a single sail that reminded me to sail […]

via Sail — HarsH ReaLiTy

Ambling my way into the morning on the tail of the sunrise, I saw a neighbor sitting at the top of her flight of stairs. It was a lovely picture: she was surrounded by a garden of flowers cultivated on the landing, accompanied by her regal all-white cat, who was supervising her task and surveying the area. The woman was tying up a trash bag.

On another occasion, I had assisted this neighbor by carrying a package up the stairs for her, because I had seen her step-by-step inching first the package, then herself up. So, again, I asked if I could be of assistance.

She smiled at me, declined, and said, “Watch this.”

Gently she shoved the bag forward toward the stairs. Placed on a hard plastic liner, the trash bag swiftly tobogganed down the stairs and came to rest at my feet. We both laughed and appreciated the ingenuity.

Continuing my walk, I pondered. In what way am I facing a flight of stairs and stuck in a narrow approach to navigating them. How can I make things more effortless? What solutions would appear if I put aside the belief that I should do things on my own? Or by utilizing physical strength? Or other arbitrary limits?

This woman potentially began seeking new solutions only when her physical abilities diminished. And yet, we don’t have to wait. Not only do famous inventors have such creative abilities–we all do.

Two examples of this creativity, are my mother and one of my professors.

My mother loves to play ping pong. She is very energetic and agile, yet in anticipation of not being able to use her right hand, since she is “old” and might have to deal with injury, she switches up. Throughout a match, she will alternate, using her left hand now as adeptly as her right. This is one way in which she went past limitation. In addition, it is her way of stimulating the brain bilaterally. And, “Shhhhh!” Please don’t tell my nephew that he was only able to win when she used her left hand.

My professor joyfully proclaims his laziness and the fact that he did not graduate top of his class. He is a brilliant practitioner, and has a sharp mind, yet his take was different. He looked for systems within the body of knowledge to find explanations and gain understanding into principles, rather than beginning with rote memorization like his colleagues. Yes, memorization of some things is necessary, but he sought a framework within which to do so.

A few weeks ago, I attended his seminar on Two Opposites Theory. His laziness inspired him to see things differently–even in the field of Traditional Chinese Medicine, which has been around for thousands of years–and he developed a theory of understanding and treatment that is simple and effective.

Belief. Once again, it boils down to the belief–or not–in the perceived limitation. Are you willing to believe in another possibility?  What do you have to lose? You might even navigate those stairs more easily.

~Sarina

Everything up to now in your life has been perfect, leading you to this perfect you, now.

As we age and move through different stages of life, our focus can shift. We might change our goals, our friends, our jobs, or find new ways to define ourselves. Throughout our life, however, some things do not change. Our personality traits, for instance, remain stable. What about our needs? Once we retire, do we still need to worry about Maslow and his hierarchy of needs? Is it enough to graze in the green pasture and leave the race to a younger generation?

For many of us, the search for meaning in life is not a new one. The quest is also not new to our lifetime. Over the centuries, religions and philosophies have evolved; Shakespeare asked, “To be or not to be…”; and motivational workshops and coaching businesses are booming—all with the goal of helping us decipher the puzzle and decode our purpose.

Even in the thick of things, when life is full of tasks, challenges, to-do lists, goals, and deadlines, we sometimes feel a lack of purpose. We are busy responding to others’ needs, we are doing our job, we are raising our kids, we are moving ahead in our career, we are celebrating successes—even then, we can feel lost or disconnected from meaningfulness.

What about after all these tasks are completed, the kids are raising their own kids, the deadlines belong to someone else, and seemingly, so does the success…and the purpose. Increasingly, we are living longer. To what end?

Every week, I have the opportunity to meet one or two people to whom I administer a psychological test battery. My patients are in nursing homes or assisted living facilities. Each has her own story. Some are recovering from surgery or an illness, some are struggling to regain the ability to take care of their own daily tasks or to walk up two steps or down the hallway again, but they are all learning to cope with varying degrees of depression.

The test battery I administer is not a walk in the park; it can take up to three and a half hours, it challenges one’s memory, logic, some specific brain functions, and general intelligence. Although some of the tests can be uncomfortable in pointing out weaknesses—lack of memory especially can be painful—my patients often brighten up during my visit. A woman told me that she was glad to undergo the test, because Sunday afternoons are otherwise so lonely.

Recently, two people in particular, struck a cord in me. Both are relatively fit, have their wits about them, are painfully aware of faltering memory, are lonely, and are waiting for life to end. Their financial situation allows them the comfort of a private room in a clean and well-run facility. Physical needs are met, but emotional and social ones remain woefully neglected. It is human interaction and purpose that is lacking. The gentleman said it so succinctly, “I can no longer contribute.”

Where is the disconnect? How is this happening? What can be done? How can they contribute? With whom could they connect? 

I feel confident that this is not conscious abandonment, and there are luckily many happy exceptions to this end-of-life wasteland. Broad individual differences exist. On a societal level, however, a number of factors can contribute to this current situation: geographical mobility, smaller families, economic pressures, perhaps even technology and a change in the amount of face-to-face time we expect to spend with family members, to name just a few. These are just speculations on my part. I can only guess. I know neither the cause, nor the solution. Likely, a number of solutions will be needed, depending on the circumstances and the angle of attack.

For my part, I do not know what I can do. A suspicion is creeping in that I personally will ponder the situation, delicately disentangle myself, and slink back into my sideline life. Yes, the emotions I felt—the sadness, guilt, disappointment—will surge up at various times, triggered by a sight or a memory, and I will let it sink back down. After all, what could I do to make a change? How can I help these people connect and contribute?

Perhaps the act of putting this in writing, inviting others to look and ponder, will lead to ideas and actions of others. It might even embolden me to feel that I can do something, however small, to make a difference.