• What the H?

    • February 29, 2024 10:07 am

    Dearest Readers,

    The other day I was speaking about self-care with a resident in the Long-Term Care home where I work and in the middle of our discussion I said, “Most of us need to have a self-care plan at the ready before we cross the line into–”

    “Hell,” he said, finishing my sentence for me.

    That’s not what I was going to say but I laughed out loud because he nailed it.

    Yesterday, I started to watch a video on YouTube about a woman who “Met God and Saw the Future”. She’d come back to life after having a Near Death Experience (NDE) with a new understanding that the afterlife is actually “Home” and life on Earth is, in fact, “Hell.”

    Then, last evening, I had a meaningful conversation with woman who lives with pretty intense mental health issues. She talked about her struggles and her suidical ideation, summing it all up by saying, “Life is hell.”

    Okay, three mentions of “hell” in as many days? I thought I’d better write about it.

    I’ve never subscribed to the idea of Hell as a place we go after we die. But this idea that Life is Hell? Certainly in my darkest hours I have felt it to be true.

    People who have NDEs often experience a state of “overwhelming, unconditional love” (as the woman in the video did) and so it makes sense that life here, with its pain and suffering and confusion, would seem like Hell in comparison.

    Yet life on Earth includes this phenomenon called Beauty and despite the hell states of war, tragedy, depression and illness, Beauty is everywhere.

    And the one generator of Beauty that we all seem to agree on?

    Nature. Nature gives us so much Beauty.

    As I was driving home the other day, a luminescent split in the darkening sky was spilling forth the brightest light imaginable from a towering wall of black clouds.

    Despite the fact that this heavenly hernia was nearly blinding me and black spots in my vision were making it difficult to see the road, I kept turning my eyes back toward it.

    It seemed an apt metaphor for how human beings seek Beauty. We want to look at it. We want it to blind us. We want to be dazzled and blown away by it and reassured that it exists, that we can see it, that it is there for us.

    And it is. Beauty is everywhere. This is an undeniable, indisputable truth.

    With three mentions of Hell and two more of “the End Times” (that’s another Letter), it’s fair to say that we are living in an extremely challenging time in history. For those who are in the trenches of war (actual and political), it’s truly Hell. For those of us feeling powerless to make a difference in these situations and in our own lives, it’s hell.

    And yet Nature continues to abide and bedazzle us all, continually striking us with this mysterious paradox: Life is Hell and Life is unfathomable Beauty.

    Somehow we go on, knowing both.

    Blessings to you on your Healing Journey,

    Celia

    The D Word

    • February 20, 2024 5:38 pm

    Dearest Readers,

    Lately, I’ve been writing about death as I prepare to give a talk at our local YMCA on Saturday for the “Y Break Bread” supper series.

    This may sound like a serious topic for Seniors but I’m approaching the D word with a light heart and a sense of humour.

    Here’s an excerpt of the talk:

    At the long-term care home where I provide spiritual care, I watched the practice of deep listening transform a man named Fred.

    Fred was the grumpiest man in the world. The Grinch had nothing on him. He would wheel himself around the home with a scowl on his face, grunt at you if you spoke to him, make fun of you if you said something nice, and insult people behind their backs.

    I fell in love with him. I did. Not in a romantic way but in the way of true friendship. I got to know Fred intimately and I got to see the man behind the grump.

    And Fred was a gentleman. He would do things for people, little courtesies. One of his table mates liked jam so Fred would put the little packages on her placemat every morning.

    Fred was like the Hooded Fang in Mordecai Richler’s “Jacob Two-Two” book, he’d give you candy when you weren’t looking and deny the credit for doing it.

    When I first went to visit Fred, he reluctantly let me into his room. But the more I showed up, the more he welcomed me.

    Fred complained about everything. Nothing was good enough and everybody was an idiot. But I didn’t try to convince him things were better, I didn’t deny his negativity and try to get him to look at the bright side. I listened and nodded. Sometimes I laughed. I allowed him to be himself. Fully himself, without trying to change him.

    And guess what? Fred started to smile. He started to tell jokes. I found out that he actually had a great sense of humour. (Okay, often it was at other people’s expense but he could really tell a joke.)

    One day I asked Fred if he was afraid to die.

    “Die?” he said, “Why would anyone be afraid to die? It only takes a minute. Just like getting your tooth pulled. Open up and say ‘ah’.”

    My friendship with Fred taught me that when we accept someone for who they are and give them the space to be themselves, they will begin to trust that it’s okay to be themselves. Fred softened his hard shell, shed his armour and allowed his true self to be seen.

    I call this the miracle of unconditional love. When we offer someone that gift in their later years and they allow themselves to receive it, it can heal their soul.

    From the fires of love,

    Celia