Reflections on upcoming surgery tomorrow

Going more slowly
I could write the whole post on the gifts of having to learn to go more slowly. A few highlights:

• Hearing my slippers slide across the floor and realizing I am shuffling instead of walking
• Misplacing my shoes, phone, eyeglasses, keys, and wallet much less often
• My printing on crossword puzzles is so much clearer and less sloppy
• Flossing my teeth more slowly, actually feeling the floss up and down each side of each tooth!
• More walking and less biking--noticing the incredible beauty and lushness of the trees and bushes while sitting on a bench looking over the waterfall at Ashuelot Park
• When we were visiting our 4-year old grandchild, I had to find more activities that didn't require being so physically active. One day I did "This little Piggy went to market…" on her toes. She giggled and then said "do it again…backwards"! The next day she was doing her wooden Olivia puzzle, saying each letter as she put it in its place. I said "now spell your name backwards." She looked puzzled for a moment and then laughed, remembering the day before. With glee she said "I can spell my name backwards with my eyes closed.” She then named each letter as she picked it up: "A I V I L O." I was able to feel her intelligence, creativity, and playfulness as we explored new ways of being together.

Savoring more moments
Thoroughly enjoying a good meal out with my wife. For one of the few times in 36 years of marriage, we finished our meals at about the same time!

Making the many morning bird songs the focus of several minutes of my meditation.

Stopping to deeply take in a beautiful blooming flower. Here is a photo of a pansy that looked like Yosemite Sam from Looney Tunes. I laughed the rest of the way home. To see it press HERE.

Seeing nature’s many beauties in the walk along the river with different friends:
• Reflections of the sky, clouds, and trees on the water
• Noticing that the algae on a small pond look like an Impressionist painting; for years I have seen the algae as ugly
• Seeing a trail through the algae that was made by a swimming animal, a duck perhaps?
• Hearing the song of a wood thrush

Seeing more clearly
I feel that learning to go more slowly (both my body and mind) has enabled me to see more clearly, something the Buddha called sampajanna: clear knowing, seeing the whole picture.

Yesterday our Monday night meditation group was discussing an article on tough compassion. One example given was speaking up when someone makes a very mean-spirited remark and at the same time having compassion for the ignorance or inner hurt in that person that preceded the comment. One of the members pointed out that what we are being invited and challenged to do is a simultaneous holding of opposites.

This is what I was writing about last week when I spoke about accepting all my thoughts related to the upcoming surgery, both the "positive" and the "negative" thoughts.

This has come up when I feel irritated because my wife is hovering over me ("that's too heavy for you," "that's too much salt"). When I open my heart, I can feel the energy of fear in her also. If something happened, I would be gone, but she would still be here without her best friend. When I can hold both hold the irritation and the love, I respond with compassion.

May we all continue to grow in these and other ways.

A Work in Progress

This aortic dissection has required me to move more slowly and to pay closer attention to my body (e.g., monitoring blood pressure, eating foods with more potassium, less sodium, and higher fiber). There are potentially high consequences for not doing this, so I have more motivation to pay closer attention than I did before.

Living into this new life also requiring new attitudes:
Attuning as opposed to trying to figure things out
Exploring as opposed to coping and adjusting

I am finding that there are some wonderful outcomes from developing these new habits.

Going slowly
I have learned that I have to limit my activities and monitor my energy. What would normally be a light day—taking a walk with a friend, a Zoom meeting with colleagues, and going to a Pilates class is now a full day. The rest of the day has to be mellower. If I don’t pay attention to my energy, I crash. That simple.

I have learned this slowly. If friends come over and we sit outside talking, my limit is about 60 to 90 minutes. Though I enjoy the company, it really takes energy to have conversation with others: deciding what I want to say, listening, feeling the flow of the conversation. I can feel the energy this takes so clearly now.

Knowing the energy cost of striving
Striving means trying hard to become what/who I think I should become, and I have always tried my best! I was given one clue about striving years ago when learning yoga. I found it challenging to hold the downward dog posture. My teacher gave me feedback but still I struggled. She said, “pay attention to your body and you’ll feel your way into the posture.” Really? It took a few classes, but when I got it, I was amazed.

Last week in my Pilates class, I had a similar experience with a floor exercise where we twist the body to one side while keeping the opposite shoulder on the floor. I’ve struggled with that posture, but last week I relaxed during the posture and was suddenly able to twist more while the shoulder stayed on the ground.

I have also realized (at a deeper level) how much energy it costs to go fast. For example, I have always flossed my teeth and typed as if I am racing to get my best time. It is amazing to feel the floss go up and down each tooth, and my arms and shoulders thank me when I type more slowly.

Attuning
Recently one of my favorite meditation teachers talked about our three intelligences: body, mind, heart and how important it is to attune to them so that they are aligned. Another teacher said that we need to pay attention to that which has heart and meaning. I am doing that more regularly, and I see the benefits.

Last week after two days that were busy for me, but which would have been moderately active days only 6 months ago, I was physically and mentally exhausted and said I was going to take off the next three days. The three days became five as I noticed how tired I really was.

Last night Yvette (my wife) asked our son if he knew how much our almost four-year-old granddaughter weighed now, and he said 34 pounds. I teared up and said, “I’ll never be able to pick her up again.” Right now I can’t lift more than 20 pounds, and while a good CT scan in June might let me lift more, my surgeon has said that I will always have to be careful about activities than can cause a spike in blood pressure, including lifting and vigorous exercise for prolonged periods.

After we got off the phone, I could feel myself spiraling into a depression. In talking with Yvette, I realized that since November I have been attempting to balance between being positive and letting myself be down. While it is important to cultivate gratitude and positive energy, if unchecked this can turn into minimizing ("it could have been worse," "I have so much to be grateful for"). Similarly, while it is important to rest and take time out when needed, it is easy to sink into self-pity, despair and wallowing.

Yvette noted that it takes courage to let yourself down because of the fear that you might not get out. I realize that this past five months has had many situations that were quite traumatic. I need to acknowledge and grieve the many losses that this disease entails. So I’ve gone back into therapy to better explore these energies swirling inside me.

Work in progress
“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” Marcel Proust

I am seeing more things which I wasn’t able to see before because of striving and going so fast. I think we can all learn more about ourselves by slowing down and attuning to the energies of our body and heart.