Two Percent Moments

Our yoga teacher, Paul, asked us what we do when we suddenly get angry about having Parkinson’s disease.  I had to think about this for awhile.  When I have gotten angry about my health challenges, I’ve been known to do some unusual things.  I doubt that wood carving and bungee jumping are on everyone’s top ten lists of “ways to cope”. 

Those activities are not available to me on a moment’s notice, and it’s probably a good thing.  I’m not at all sorry that I did the bungee jump. It was a thrilling ride.  It’s not, however, something I would do more than once a year. 

Wood carving is more of a calming activity for me, one where I can work slowly and quietly; unless of course, my dystonia kicks in.  If my dystonia starts up and my arms start to thrash about, wood carving becomes a thrill for all those around me.  My favorite place to carve is in our woodworking room at school.  It’s almost always crowded in there, filled with students working on their own projects.  Granted, 7^th grade boys might enjoy the thrill of dodging carving tools and watching their former kindergarten teacher doing a wild dance around the table, but I don’t think the insurance agent who provides the school liability insurance would find it entertaining.

How, then, do I cope with those moments?  My usual response is to DO something…anything that will help me to realize that I still can do something!  This is when I generally overdo it.  I bake cookies, clean, organize a closet, start a sewing project, volunteer for something at school, chop down a tree, do laundry, write a book, and decide I should go back to college and finish earning my degree.  Coping in this way usually earns me a day or two in bed.

Lately, I’ve found another way to deal with those times when I start to feel down.  I can take a few good deep breaths (thanks to yoga), stretch a little, relax, and tell myself that this is just a two percent moment.  What is a two percent moment?  It is a reminder to me that ninety-eight percent of the time I do well.  I am happy with my life and I wouldn’t change anything.  I have an amazing husband who loves me and supports me, wonderful kids who alternately make me proud and drive me crazy, and I couldn’t ask for better friends.  This is my reminder that the discouraging times don’t come about that often.  They are only a small fraction of my life – two percent.

Even when those discouraging times happen more than two percent of the time, I will still call them two percent moments.  It’s a place to put them and perhaps even a reminder that they are not in charge of my life.  I can file them away in the proper file folder and put them in their proper place.  

Of course, this is easier said than done.  When a two percent moment hits, something funny happens.  There are strange feelings that creep up and decide to hijack your brain, shoving it roughly into some corner and then hanging up that “out to lunch” sign.  It takes a lot of discipline to be able to reach in to myself and take a look at those feelings and prevent them from taking over.  It’s not that I want to ignore the feelings, either.  They are part of who I am and when I ignore them, they rebel and start shoving my brain around.  Getting to know those feelings and accepting them diminishes their power over me.  Allowing myself to experience those feelings, whatever they may be, is incredibly freeing.

Another help is to look at what triggered that particular moment of discouragement.  Chances are it was something small.  An insensitive remark from someone or an obstacle in my path that causes me to trip can easily be discouraging.  After arthritis started in my hands, just the attempt to open a can with a can opener could trigger a two percent moment. 

The more I practice my yoga, the more I have the discipline to understand my feelings and cope with them.  I am also fortunate to have a good friend whom I call my Buddha friend.  As he has short term memory challenges, he has the gift of being totally and completely present in the moment.  When he is listening to you, he listens with his whole self.  Spending time with this friend is a meditation in itself; so much so, that when I described this friendship to one of my wholistic medical practitioners, she smiled and wasn’t surprised when I said that there is no other time when I have fewer symptoms than when I am visiting with him.   

That’s another thing.  Two percent moments can work the other way, too.  My husband comes up behind me and puts his arms around me or one of my former students stops by the school to visit me or a friend smiles and says something kind.  Reading a poem that my daughter wrote will do it, as will playing Scrabble with my son.  All of a sudden, I feel wonderful!  Life doesn’t get better than this!

The challenge for me is to accept all of these moments without trying to either push them away or hold on to them too tightly.  Feel and let go…. 

I’m getting better at this, at least two percent of the time.

Parkinson's Yoga

In writing about my yoga class, I have been remiss on one thing.  I'm sure that there are many people out there who would be interested in the work of Paul and Carolyn Zeiger.  It goes way beyond just the yoga classes that they teach. 

The yoga class has been such a gift to us.  Paul and Carolyn help us to do just a little more than we think we can, however, their first concern is always safety.  We not only learn the poses, we also learn how to get up from the floor safely and how to think consciously about how we move.  When they encourage me to do just a little more, I'm always reminded of how much I love to be comfortable.  As much as I am "built for comfort", I also realize that if I don't take this seriously and don't start paying attention to how I move, I will lose a lot of that movement to my Parkinson's.  That's motivating. 

What's really motivating is watching Paul move.  He's had Parkinson's a lot longer than I have and he moves better than I do.  As I said, they do much more than just teach yoga.  They help teach us how to live.

Here is their link:  www.parkinsonsyoga.org

Thank you Paul and Carolyn for everything!

terri

Out to Lunch

My brain went on holiday today.  It actually started yesterday when I mailed two packages of books to schools in Canada.  I packed them well and made sure to include the invoice.  I made it to the Post Office just in time, filled out the proper paperwork and sent them on their way. When I came home, Chris looked at me and asked if I had included our address on the invoice so they would know where to send the check. 

Of course I didn’t. 

Probably just a minor slip, I thought to myself.  Today started well.  We went to our yoga class and I know my brain came along because it was there when I needed it.  Our yoga teachers, Paul and Carolyn Zeiger, push us to do as much as we can…and then they push just a wee bit more.  I’m fairly flexible so it works okay, most of the time.  Once in the proper pose, we remain there for a minute or so, or until our muscles threaten to spontaneously combust.

Today we were doing the “CAT/COW” pose, where we get down on all fours and alternately arch our back like a cat and then do the opposite, looking like an old swayed back cow.  Carolyn felt sure I could arch my back even further than what I was doing.  It didn’t matter that my body was telling me it was impossible.  If Carolyn decided I could go further, I was going further.  I arched my back higher than ever.  Carolyn was impressed.

My bladder was not.  Fortunately for me, my brain did engage and I could hear it yelling frantically, “KEGELS!  DO YOUR KEGELS!”  Kegel exercises, for those of you who don’t know, meaning women who haven’t had children yet and men who haven’t lived with women who have had children, are exercises where one tightens up everything between the waist and the knees in a desperate attempt to keep the muscles in shape, the bladder where it is supposed to be, and make sure there are no bodily fluids leaking.  The kegel exercises worked.  It was a close call.  The effect of the kegels made an additional push in my arched back.  Carolyn was really impressed now!  “Hold it as long as you can,” she says. 

Believe me, that was my goal. 

Then we came to the last part of the class.  This is the part where you lie down on your mat, let everything relax, close your eyes, and try not to go to sleep.  I don’t know whether it has something to do with menopause, or with my Parkinson’s, my meds, or if it’s just me.  As soon as we reach this point and I close my eyes to relax, I get teary.  Everyone else is quiet except me.  I am sniveling.  I tried hard to find some way to prevent a full blown snivel attack.  What could I think about?  My first thoughts were disastrous.  Do not try to stop the tears by thinking about a friend who is dying.  It doesn’t work. 

I whirled through about a dozen more possibilities before I finally settled on mentally sewing books.  This did it.  Bookbinding is a wonderful meditative activity.  It doesn’t require academic skills and it doesn’t even require creativity.  It is mechanical and repetitive.  The sniveling stopped.

After class was over, I said goodbye to Chris, and left for the bookbinding class that I am teaching at our high school.  What better after yoga then to teach this wonderful meditative work?  And how incredibly meditative can it be with a classroom filled with high school seniors, all needing help at once?  I’m afraid the beneficial effects of the yoga had some competition. 

I arrived at the school, just in time for class to start.  Unpacking my box of supplies, I realized I had left several key tools at home.  We managed to make do.  I turned it into this lovely lesson of “this is why I try not to depend on tools”.  The students, however, know that the tools make the work much easier and they didn’t particularly appreciate my philosophizing. 

After class, my cell phone alarm went off to remind me that it was time to take my meds.  I looked through my purse to find my pill container.  It was gone.  I figured maybe I had filled it at home and then left it on our kitchen counter.  I didn’t worry though and I finished out my day with only a moderate amount of symptoms, despite missing the dose.

My son rode with us part of the way home and filled my daughter and me in on their latest baby news.  Their baby is due right around Christmas day.  The big question is, “will the baby turn over or will the baby insist on being feet first?”  We don’t have the answer to that one yet.  I dropped him off at the light rail station and we continued home. 

Once we got home, I looked for my meds on the counter.  I couldn’t find them anywhere.  I still didn’t panic and thought I’d just continue with my daily routine.  I sent Chris to the store to pick up my new prescriptions and then I worked on dinner.  I figured I could get dinner made and the dishes done.   I filled the dishwasher with the dirty dishes only to have Chris come home a few minutes later and inform me that I had put the dirty dishes in with clean dishes and now they were all mixed up. 

The brain is definitely on holiday and in the big empty space where it used to be, there's now a sign that says, "Out to lunch".   If you see my brain anywhere, please let me know.  It’s pink and spongy and is carrying a small pill container filled with dopamine pills. 

Marathon - conclusion - and another marathon

Daniel did fly through the marathon.  He completed the 26.2 mile run in just 3 hours and 2 minutes.  That’s an average of less than 7 minutes per mile.  I watched from home in Colorado, tracking him on the route map all the way.  I also tried to find the quiet time to just simply think about Daniel and the race.  What must it feel like to run that far? 

I didn’t have any amazing psychic revelations, unless you count the sudden realization that 14,000 people starting in each wave equaled 28,000 elbows.  I don’t get along well in crowds with lots of elbows.  When I get jostled a bit, I tend to start walking sideways…or backwards, depending on how my body is cooperating at any one moment.  Shoulders are just as bad.  I wouldn’t have had to worry about getting tangled up with anyone else’s feet.  Mine tend to stay on the ground. 

I have learned a lot, just by reading Daniel’s blog and watching the runners.  Running long distances takes training.  It’s not just about being fast, either.  It’s about endurance and how to pace yourself so you can go farther without completely exhausting yourself.  I understand that well.  With Parkinson’s, every day is about pacing myself so I can go farther without getting exhausted.  

I’m in another marathon now and I need to step back for a moment and remember the pacing bit.  Tomorrow I start teaching again.  I will have one class a day, for four weeks, to teach bookbinding.  I know the students.  They are our high school seniors and they are a hard working and artistic group.  In addition to this class, I am preparing to have a vendor’s table at our yearly Christmas fair.  As this is the only venue where I sell any of my crafts, I am working hard.  I have my goals posted on my kitchen cabinet and I am slowly but surely making my way through the list. 

These two tasks work well together.  I can finish my own books as I teach the students, using my work as the examples for each step.  I will have some free time after my class and that will allow me to spend some time finishing sewing projects or putting together greeting cards.  There are three weeks to go before the fair.  I should be ready, no problem!

Of course there is another project.  Our son, Patrick, has submitted his book to the printers and is waiting for the proof copy to arrive.  After the book passes Patrick’s inspection and we deem that it is ready to be sold, we will be working together to create an advertisement mailing to go out to schools around the country.  That will have to be done before the first of December. 

Okay, I think we’ve got it under control.  The bookbinding class materials are ready.  I’m prepared to teach.  The Christmas fair crafts are getting done, albeit slowly.  We’ve got most of our mailing list compiled so that it shouldn’t be difficult to send out the advertisement. I’m organized. 

I’d like to think I am, anyway.  There is one more important project: we have a grandbaby due in FIVE WEEKS!  Okay, settle down, breathe a little.  I’ve been so scattered over the last week that I have piles of work everywhere in the house.  We couldn’t even eat at the dining room table last night because it was filled with sewing projects.  I go from one to another, flitting back and forth and getting very little done.  I’m getting tired.  It’s time to pace myself again.  Daniel, you can be MY race pacer, this time.

I have to remind myself that I don’t have to make ALL of the baby’s diapers and clothes.  The baby doesn’t need to have everything before he or she is born, either.  I’ve already knit a blanket and an outfit, and made a doll.  My son and daughter-in-law were showered by their friends, family, and church community today.  They have a good start. 

I’d better pace myself.  I want to have enough energy to hold my grandbaby.

Training – Day Four

Dear Daniel,

I’ve learned a lot this week as I’ve prepared to be your race pacer for tomorrow’s marathon.  This is an important task that I’ve been asked to do.  I didn’t want to go into this lightly. 

Tomorrow I will be with you in spirit.  What does that mean?  How will I do that?  One of my favorite book series has always been the “Wrinkle in Time” series by Madeline L’Engle.  She writes about a special way of connecting with another person that transcends space and time.  It’s called kything.  The word “kything” comes from the Scottish word “kythe”, which means “to make visible”.  Madeline L’Engle uses this word to describe a spiritual connection with another person that is not dependent on words or sight or touch.  In some cases, a person almost becomes one with the other person, seeing what they see, feeling what they feel. 

Can this be done?  There are people who say it is possible.  There has even been a book written about this subject by Louis M. Savary and Patricia H. Berne, called Kything: The Art of Spiritual Presence.  It is considered a handbook on how to kythe.   I have had experiences that have come close to what is described as kything.  I have never been able to explain them nor would I want to.  All I can do is describe what happened at the time.  I do know what it is like, for a very short time, to experience what another person is experiencing.  Whether I have a particularly vivid imagination or whether this is a true spiritual connection, I cannot judge.  I do know that it’s incredibly powerful when it happens.

What will I do tomorrow?   For you, Daniel, I will connect to the broadcast of the race then I will try to be still and connect with you.  I don’t know what will happen.

I wish you strength and lightness of heart!  Tomorrow we’ll fly!

Terri