The grace of aging

I have a memory of an incredible day in the sixth grade when our school choir traveled to a local nursing home to perform some patriotic songs to some residents there. Three of us were dance students and had prepared a tap routine wearing red white and blue costumes. We were in the middle of a song and as I was executing the rehearsed dance steps with confidence, I faltered momentarily as I caught a glimpse of a beautiful elderly woman in a wheelchair, with flowing long white hair and wearing a white nightgown with a high lacy neck. I hesitated in my performance because this woman was openly sobbing as she watched, huge alligator tears flowing down her face. Glancing around uncomfortably, I noticed several other spectators in the room were also tearful and emotional, including some of the men. 

I did not understand. Why were they in such anguish? We traveled there to make them happy, not to make them cry and feel sad. My eleven year old mind was in complete bewilderment.

We finished our performance and topped it off with a bow, exiting single file past the still emotional elders. I felt so confused. On the way out I stopped one of the facility caretakers and asked, "Why are they crying? We wanted to make them happy!" She replied, "You DID make them happy!"  In response to my puzzled look, she explained that many of these individuals were experiencing memories of times past and their loved ones that they miss, and when they saw our performance it may have reminded them of their children, or other aspects of their lives that made them feel emotional. Their crying was not an expression of sadness, but of deep and enduring love. Our performance was stimulating to them in a very positive, healthy way that was good for them, and it touched their hearts even though they didn't know us personally. 

Thinking about this on the way home from the field trip, I realized it was a healthy, positive experience for me too. I kept thinking about the lady with long white hair. I noticed a rewarding feeling that came from having helped her, and the others, reconnect with lost feelings and experience memories of those they love, and to remember that their lives held value and many wonderful relationships. The memory of this day helped to shape my future since my life's work involves keeping older people connected with life through better hearing. Each person that I meet has a unique story and it thrills me to know about the things they have done during their lives. These stories hold irreplaceable value, because once someone is no longer with us, the stories are no longer available. I love paying these stories (anonymously) forward to others because of the knowledge and insight contained in them. In the isolation of today's technological world, I believe knowing stories of others can keep humanity in touch with reality and prevent atrophy of our ability to relate to each other on a basic psychosocial level. 

One of my patients this week remembers when gasoline was 13 cents a gallon, and when farming equipment was horse-drawn. He stated, "My father used to say the newer equipment would be less effective than the old fashioned horse-drawn." His son-in-law asked him, "Well was he right??" To which he replied, "Well NO, he wasn't!!! The problem is the expense of it....nowadays if you have the money to farm, you don't really NEED to farm..." He talked about how he just sold his 100 acre farm to someone who wanted to "rent" it out to farmers..I found myself hoping that was the truth and that it wasn't actually being "farmed out" to housing developers and Walmarts. 

Another of my patients is a holocaust survivor who was reunited with his long-lost cousin for the first time in 65 years, because the family was separated fleeing the country. They were reunited on Facebook. Another patient was a German immigrant who met her husband at 18, an American soldier and traveled to the states to get married after knowing him for only 2 weeks. She did not speak any English at the time. Yet another patient lived to be 103 years old, and that year married a woman 27 years his junior. It was the second marriage for both of them, and he explained to me that even though they would both be buried beside their first spouses, they had met in church where they caught the "love bug" for each other. 

I have lost enough of my older relatives at this point in my life, to realize what is important about these relationships and what we can learn from them, including the peace and serenity that can be gained by interacting with them. The reciprocity is immeasurable since the benefit to the older person is evident as well. It is not surprising to hear about the latest findings that treating hearing loss early may have a direct impact on preventing dementia and other cognitive neuro-degeneration. We NEED interaction with others to survive. 

As I drive out of the office parking lot on certain days, I often see one of the upstairs nursing home residents outside talking to the statues of children playing that are stationed outside a park gazebo on the lawn. She lovingly brushes their hair, "fixes" their jackets, and kisses their heads. It reminds me of how much I would be willing give to have another conversation with my grandmother, my grandfather, or any of my greats. It reminds me to take advantage of the time granted to be with these individuals. Maybe the next time I see the woman with the statues, I will stop and ask her to sit in the gazebo with me, and tell me a story about her children.

Lace: remembrance.

Since medieval times, human society has treated the annual recurrence of dates of events of personal importance with a celebratory nature. It has become ingrained in our mentality to commemorate historical events, birth dates, weddings, and deaths.  Wedding anniversaries began during the Roman Empire when husbands would crown their wives with a wreath of silver on their 25th year of marriage.

I remember the date of my parents' wedding, September 10, 1977. I remember this date because I was 4 years old and a flower girl in the ceremony. You see I was getting a "new Dad" on that day. It was a beautiful sunny day and the small, intimate wedding was held near a flower garden in my new grandparents yard.  My mother wore a white sundress and the most elaborate silver lace-up platform sandals. I met my new aunt and cousins that day for the first time. I remember every small detail of that day, especially how in love my mother was with my new dad. We had already suffered through some very hard times, the two of us, and it was time for a new life. Things couldn't have been more perfect, and nothing could have ruined that day.  And today, still nothing can ever mar the pristine memory of my parents' wedding day.  I do not remember the day they split up, or what happened to get things there.

Over the course of many hours, days, and weeks, the dynamics of close relationships can change.  It does not mean there is less love than there was before, for this is impossible. In some cases it can mean that things never were meant to be in the first place, and in others it may mean that one person has decided to take responsibility for changing a negative pattern of some kind. In any instance, the end of a marriage carries long term painful ramifications for everyone involved. In most cases, the negative energy, anger and resentments grow to the point of completely overshadowing anything positive. However, the memory of the anniversary date can still be a pleasant one that carries the warmth and significance of the love, respect and admiration that was felt that day. Because no matter what happens, that memory still possesses the same meaning. In a sense, by allowing remembrance, healing can begin, and that day each year can continue to serve as a grateful and happy reminder of love and joy, rather than a painful one of loss and regret. Time and patience can heal all wounds, if we allow it.

Stages of Grief

It was 1989, my sophomore year in high school. I had enrolled in a very unusual course offering to fulfill an elective requirement.  The course was called Thanatology, the study of death.  At the time, I was in the process of grieving my parents' divorce which had occurred during the prior school year. My response to this major shift in my family had been to act out against myself socially, rejecting old friends and activities and isolating myself. 

Taking this Thanatology class seemed like the perfect way to propel my depression, so I jumped in with both feet, expecting to spend the semester wallowing in a black hole of gothic self deprecation and fantasies of sad ghost-like dreams.  It was not so. My imagined vision of Lily Munster teaching the class, watching Amityville Horror, and theorizing about the life hereafter was dashed immediately upon the entrance of a bright-eyed, intelligent young blonde teacher with a sensible appearance and librarian glasses.  She was very down to business and got us on task with her expectations for the class right away. This was not going to be one of those "filler" classes. She impressed and surprised me, so I perked up and began to feel interested and curious about what this teacher had to tell me, that this class had a purpose I hadn't realized.

As I progressed through the coursework, I found myself learning about how human grief works, and coping with all aspects of grief. At first I was taken aback that the class was not going to allow me to sink deeper into a pit of despair, but I began looking forward to this class every day and not for the reasons I originally thought. The most important and fundamental piece I have carried with me has been the Elisabeth Kubler Ross model of stages of grief. It completely shocked me to find out that grieving is gradual with distinct phases that can be finite, not an endless realm of hell.  Somehow, the simple awareness of a cognitive component to grieving, the culmination being some level of recovery, gave my scientific mind the solace of relief. Even though the class was centered around grieving a death of a loved one, learning about the Kubler Ross model was obviously a tool that was applicable to other forms of grief. At the time I didn't see a connection between what I was learning in Thanatology class, and what I was experiencing in my personal life, but it really was like a death. It was the death of a marriage, and the death of the previous home life that I had known.

Looking back now, my lack of awareness was ironic, of the fact that I was significantly less despondent by the end of that semester. I had subconsciously learned how to respond to my own grief in the course of learning about the grieving process. Within a few years, by the time I was taking college psych courses the model had shifted to allow some variation and recurrence in the progression of the stages (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance), which made even more sense to me later. It gave me permission to have my feelings, deal with them, let them go, allow them to resurface, and deal with them again if needed. I'm not sure why intellectualizing it in this way makes it seem so much more bearable, but I have found myself returning to this basic grounded theory many times over the years.

Acknowledging that the feelings I have are normal and human reminds me that no mental state ever has to be permanent or insurmountable. It also empowers me to take responsibility of my own recovery from grief, gaining my strength from within and from my spirituality, and stop expecting others to resolve my grief for me. This may be one of the single most important concepts I learned in high school, that has helped me through a number of dark moments in my life.  What held the appearance of a frivolous and fun elective course turned out to have more impact on me and my future well-being than any other course in all of high school, even 24 years later.

Only a power greater than..

Red River Gorge September 2011

Once upon a time when I was a full time working mother of two-under-two, I had a beautiful 50 mile commute to work each day in the Buffalo Trace region of Kentucky.  One evening after I had worked late, I picked up my 5 month old and 19 month old from the sitter, loaded them safely into their carseats, and began driving. Shortly across the county line, I glanced to my left and saw a spider crawling near my window. If you don't know me well...I had debilitating arachnophobia. I don't know why I didn't just pull over, perhaps it was the traffic behind me or the speed limit I was in. I began rolling the window down in the hopes of evacuating the offending creature, however in my lack of attention to the road I failed to notice a curve. As I turned my attention back to the dash, I realized my car was no longer in contact with the ground! I had driven off-road and was completely airborne.

As my car took a nosedive, for a moment I could see nothing but sky. I had no idea where my car was headed or how far down...this particular area was known for its steep, ravine like inclines of the side of the road. Everything went completely silent. I was certain it was the end. In that moment, I suddenly felt as though everything stopped, and the distinct impression that a question was being asked of me. My first thought was, "I'm not done." Rather than my life flashing before my eyes, as the old saying goes, it was instead that all the things I still wanted to do with my life flashed before my eyes. I felt a sense of desperate insistence.

The next thing I knew, we had turned a double somersault down the hill and landed right side up against a tree growing out of the hill, stopping us about halfway down. There was a rushing creek at the bottom. Sitting in the driver's seat totally disoriented, it took a moment to realize I was still alive and relatively unscathed. There was shattered glass in my hair, in my mouth. I felt a sort of heavy presence to my left, and my window was still down. I looked over and saw leaves, heard the sounds of nature outside the car. The heavy presence dissipated. At this point I became terrified because there were no sounds coming from the backseat. I turned slowly and saw my shocked 19 month old beginning to cry, but I was not yet relieved because my 5 month old was in a rear-facing seat. I climbed up in my seat and leaned over expecting the worst...but she was wide-eyed looking around with nothing more than a bump on her head. I was incredulous that everyone was fine and that we had been given this miraculous second chance.

This event has become a pivotal moment in my life's history, of realizing that not everything is under my control. I made a vow that I would be true to myself and my children, and make every single possible effort to be of service in making a contribution to mankind. I made a vow that I would relish and appreciate each small joy that life has to offer.  And I made a vow to never sacrifice, compromise, ignore, or neglect my spirituality.

After growing up in a family that had the problem of alcoholism, I had spent the majority of my young adult life being "spiritually impaired."  Although I had a tremendous appreciation for the concept, my self confidence was so low that I actually felt unworthy of experiencing such a thing. Like it was something that didn't apply to me or excluded me somehow. I didn't feel capable of tapping into any kind of higher consciousness and had very little understanding of the numerous ways to practice spirituality.  For years I snidely turned my nose up at ideas of a higher power, even pretentiously calling myself an atheist at one point. I was looking at life through dark shades and was surrounded by constant chaos. Becoming a mother initiated a spiritual process in me that, ironically enough, was then largely facilitated and propelled by my scenic drive to and from work, which I looked forward to daily.

After my accident, I realized I wanted conscious contact and a relationship with a higher power, whatever it may be.  Exploring this idea I began to feel more of a connection to life and to the universe, realizing my life had purpose, and this gave me direction and motivation to make a difference. Whether it is helping someone hear better so they may enjoy a higher quality of life and interaction with their loved ones, if it is inspiring students of higher learning to do the same, and to achieve their dreams by becoming more self actualized, if it is being a good comrade and offering friendship and emotional support to others, or if it is simply being a good mother and raising children who will also in turn, grow up to make a difference in the world and experience a rich, fulfilling future. I now have the ability to leave chaos behind, and stop focusing on what alcoholism has stolen from my life. I came to realize that a power greater than myself can restore me to sanity.

I would love to hear about experiences of others that have brought them into conscious contact with a higher power.

Within our Hearts

Having a sibling is one of the highest honors and greatest joys the universe can bestow upon a person. I am fortunate enough to have been given three wonderful siblings but I would like to focus specifically on sisterhood. Sisterhood has been on my mind lately as I've watched my three daughters grow into each other with the many changes occurring in their lives. As the older sister in my own family-of-origin, I have vivid memories of the intense love I felt for my younger siblings and the protective instincts I felt toward them. This priceless photo of my two youngest daughters captures the essence of this energy. The body language between them displays the yearning and magnetism drawing them together, like two stars in alignment that are supposed to be together in this life. It reminds me of how I felt as a bright eyed 8 year old girl, even at the baby shower prior to my sister's birth. In those times we did not know ahead of time the gender of the baby, so everything was green and yellow. I already had a brother who I absolutely adored to pieces. THE cutest brother I could have imagined, a little blond-headed cupcake. He was the best thing that had ever happened to me. But, I desperately wanted a sister and wanted the "new baby" to be a girl. I couldn't have been more ecstatic when a beautiful baby girl was brought home from the hospital. She was as precious as a china doll, and could not have been more adorable. As she grew into herself I couldn't imagine her being more perfect. She was MINE. I shared everything about myself with her, and once I was old enough to understand my potential influence, I saw her as an opportunity to extend everything good about myself into her. However, she had so much goodness already within her, that it reflected back to me and we lived in each others warmth and sunshine.  I sensed her absorbing everything she saw in me and it made me want to be a better person. When I was away at college 20 years ago, she sent me letters and artwork which I still keep. She learned the lyrics to all my favorite songs and would sing them with me, even though my taste in music was not exactly popular. One of my favorite memories with my sister is when she was 10 years old, she visited me at college. There was a steep hill near my building on the campus, which we called a ravine (but it wasn't really a true ravine). Her idea, we took some blankets outside, wrapped ourselves up in them, and began rolling down the side of the hill. It was amazing fun, we were shouting with glee, and eventually some of my classmates walked by. They looked at me strangely, laughing at my absurdity, but ultimately they decided to join us in the fun! There were about 5 of us out there rolling down the hill in blankets with my little sister. Several of the campus nuns stopped and watched us in enjoyment. Today we still talk about the day we rolled down "the ravine". This memory exemplifies everything about my relationship with my sister. As adults, the age difference between us now does not seem to matter anymore, so we are best friends.  Our life paths have been quite different, but she is still the only person on earth that can know me in this way and our souls are permanently connected and intertwined. This is the vision that I have in mind for the futures of my three girls, and I cannot wait to watch them experience it with each other as they grow.

Within our Hands

 We hold tremendous power and energy within our human hands. Reflexology and other alternative medicine practices posit that life energy (chi) can be manipulated by human hands, and in human hands and feet as well as other areas of the body, to release blockages that prevent healing. These ideas are generally rejected by traditional medicine due to a lack of scientific evidence, however practices such as Healing Touch, therapeutic massage, and acupressure continue to steadily gain ground as a solid presence within the medical community.

If you consider it from a physiology perspective...our hands are innervated by three sets of nerves: the median, the ulnar, and the radius nerves.  These nerves course through the arm all the way up to the spinal cord and midbrain via the brachial plexus. As in other sensory and motor systems of the human body, both afferent and efferent signals are communicated to and from the cortex, specifically the premotor and primary motor cortex located and the juncture between the frontal and parietal lobes of the cerebrum. From this point a sensory feedback loop is initiated via the basal ganglia, the thalamus, and the cerebellum. This feedback loop is primarily thought to be responsible for motor planning and execution. It would be preposterous to think that the electrical energy produced by the efferent neural feedback simply disappears when it reaches one's fingertips.  This takes me into a gray area since as a scientist, it is of utmost concern that there is no scientific evidence or even a testable method by which to support any theory about what happens to this efferent energy, specifically whether it courses beyond the confines of an individual's fingertips. However, if not, I would like an explanation otherwise as to why the practices of touch based therapies are so incredibly successful.

A universal law of physics that may be implicated or further support this idea is the Law of Resonance. If you have ever worked with tuning forks, or handbells, or even glasses of water filled to different levels, you are familiar with this concept. If an object vibrates at a certain rate of vibration (frequency or Hz), everything in its vicinity that has the same vibration as a dormant possibility will start vibrating at that frequency. This law applies to everything in the physical world, from sub-atomic particles to cosmic proportion. In this sense, I have a very preliminary, nebulous haze of a theory about some kind of resonance transfer function occuring in the neurovascular system, similar to what happens in an electrical circuit when energy is transmitted wirelessly between two resonant coils.

Whatever the explanation, I am certain that there is SOME scientific reason for this phenomenon that we are not yet advanced enough to understand. This gift to humanity is constantly present in our everyday interactions, when we shake hands with each other, when we place our hand on the shoulder of a friend in need, when we hold hands, when we kiss the open palm of a newborn or toddler. The potential contained in these actions is overwhelming. I am amazed at the power we hold within our hands. 

And with that I share with you a lovely poem written by a fabulous and accomplished poet, New york native Jane Hirschfield.

A Hand
by Jane Hirshfield
A hand is not four fingers and a thumb.Nor is it palm and knuckles, not ligaments or the fat's yellow pillow, not tendons, star of the wristbone, meander of veins. A hand is not the thick thatch of its lines with their infinite dramas, nor what it has written, not on the page, not on the ecstatic body. Nor is the hand its meadows of holding, of shaping— not sponge of rising yeast-bread, not rotor pin's smoothness, not ink. The maple's green hands do not cup the proliferant rain. What empties itself falls into the place that is open. A hand turned upward holds only a single, transparent question. Unanswerable, humming like bees, it rises, swarms, departs.

The Power of Movement

The mind-body connection has long fascinated me. I carry a strong belief that there are few other ways to connect with your spirituality, than through physical movement. I discovered this as a young dance student more than 30 years ago. As I learned ways to move my own body in elegant and beautiful ways, which were also physically demanding, I found my worries and concerns for the troubles of life slipping away, and becoming less overwhelming. My self confidence increased, and my anxiety and depression decreased. Body movement can be not only a form of exercise for physical health, but also a form of creative self expression and an outlet for tapping into boundless spiritual energy. According to authors Andrew Newberg and Eugene D'Aquili, (Why God won't go away: Brain science and the biology of belief, 2001), humans possess a neurobiological mechanism for spirituality which takes place within the orientation association area located in the posterior superior parietal lobe of the cerebral cortex. The primary job of this area is perceptual judgements of a person's orientation in physical space. This area is constantly performing advanced calculations of angles and distances to assist us in navigating and maneuvering ourselves through the environment.  Without normal function of this area we would not be able to lie down or stand up, walk down a hallway or staircase safely. Interestingly enough, studies using fMRI and SPECT scans have shown this orientation association area to also be the center of furious neurological activity during deep states of meditation or prayer. Therefore, it only makes sense that refining the function of this area through proprioceptive inputs such as dance, yoga, pilates, ballet, tai chi, and other forms of movement based activities will strengthen one's ability to have a relationship with a higher power. I believe this even extends to non-dance movement such as jogging, hiking, and cycling that require balance and visual coordination. By stimulating the cortical neural pathways leading to the superior posterior parietal orientation association area, through exercise, dance and other physical activities, we gain the cognitive strength to form a deeper connection with our spiritual selves, and transcend our material existence for an inner peace that is more real.