A journey into openness and honesty… Distilling truths about ourselves, others and life from shared experiences… Learning to live consistently with that truth… Becoming free to be who we truly are…

Losing Rosie… 3 years on…

October 1, 2017

Yesterday was a tough day. For most people it was the AFL Grand Final, but for the family and I Sept 30th is Rosie’s birthday… she would have turned 61 this year.

We lost Rosie to cancer on Oct 29th 2014. Almost 3 years have passed… so much has happened and yet our feelings still run very deep on these days.

They say time heals, and yes, it does to a point. Some aspects of grief will always remain. You never stop loving someone you loved deeply for 35 years… and that’s exactly how it should be.

So what’s it like, 3 years on?

Wrapping up Rosie’s life…

For the last two years Facebook popped up reminders for Rosie’s Birthday. For many this unexpected reminder was confronting and painful. To lessen the sting of friends being caught off guard, last year I put up a post in advance.  All this year I intended to memorialize Rosie’s facebook account before her birthday. (Memorialization means we can still see her timeline, but no longer add posts or comments, and will no longer receive birthday notifications.)

But it’s not easy doing these things… after losing Rosie I’ve had to notify so many organizations… including banks, utilities and an endless number of charity groups Rosie supported at some time. I feel grief every time… not only does it remind me that I’ve lost Rosie… closing each one is bringing to an end yet another part of her life… it almost feels like I’m betraying her… there is a painful finality in doing these things.

Recently while holidaying in WA I remembered I still had not memorialized Rosie’s Facebook account, and now her birthday was rapidly approaching. When I returned home I discovered to my dismay that Facebook can take months to memorialize accounts.

One morning a few days before Rosie’s birthday  I submitted the relevant Facebook form, hoping at best that I might receive a computer-generated request confirmation in a week or so.

That night I received a response from Facebook Support. The message literally sent me into shock… what I received was a personal, compassionate message from Facebook expressing sorrow at my loss and saying Rosie’s account had been memorialized (it had taken less than 12 hours!) While I was deeply grateful Facebook had responded so rapidly and with such compassion, I wasn’t expecting it to happen so quickly and the pain of having ‘shut down’ a significant aspect of Rosie’s life hit me hard.

Understanding Rosie’s love for me…

Rosie spent the last 9 days of her life at Caritas Christi hospice.

My last two hours with Rosie as she died are among the most profoundly beautiful and painful moments of my life. Caritas Christi has been sacred ground for me ever since. I still return there on key anniversaries to quietly remember and reflect on those final hours.

Rosie loved and deeply impacted the lives of MANY people. Her love did not discriminate… it didn’t matter where people were at in their lives, she loved and accepted them for who there were. People from all walks of life received and deeply valued her love and care. Six hundred people came to her funeral… a profound testament to her huge heart for others!

As I make myself vulnerable in the following paragraphs I ask that you treat what I say with respect.

As with all relationships, despite outward appearances, Rosie’s and my marriage was far from perfect. I am not at all saying we didn’t love one another… we loved each other deeply and were totally committed to our marriage.

Nonetheless both of us suffered deep emotional damage in early childhood. This had serious consequences for our ability to fully connect in our relationship.

For decades Rosie had to suppress severe hurt as a child in order to survive emotionally as an adult. (The childhood events had absolutely nothing to do with her family).

My childhood in turn left me wrestling with deep depression and anxiety for most of our married life. Rosie spent so many hours listening to me pour out my pain but she never gave up on me. However Rosie’s own hurts limited her ability to fully grasp and empathize with my struggles… something I desperately longed for in our relationship.

Being separated from my parents for the first two years of my life left me with a deep fear of rejection. As a result I had great difficulty recognizing and accepting the profound depth of Rosie’s unconditional love for me.

Intellectually I knew Rosie adored me… she never stopped telling me her heart still leaped for joy every time I came home! But I couldn’t grasp or accept this at an emotional level.

Three years after losing her I’m still learning how much she loved me… and it grieves me deeply that I was unable to return the utterly faithful, almost childlike love and acceptance she so freely gave me.

Rosie almost never cried (another outworking of childhood hurts). On rare occasions she shed a tear or two, but in 33 years of marriage she (briefly) cried only once with me.

Many people wanted to see Rosie in the last few days of her life. One of the tough roles I had to play was “gatekeeper”. Family had unrestricted access, but I was able to only allow a few close friends into that space.

One of these friends recently shared something which ‘blew me out of the water’. The conversation went something like this…

Friend:   “Did you know, Ian, that in my final conversation with Rosie, she cried?”

Me (my interest now in overdrive):   “No… tell me more!”

F:   “Rosie said, ‘I don’t want to leave you behind.’ “

Me:   “Wow… that was a real statement of how much she loved you.”

F (looking a bit puzzled):   “Rosie was referring to YOU, not me.”

It sent an arrow straight into my heart… Rosie had cried because she didn’t want to leave ME behind! But Rosie never cried! This was an incredibly deep and precious expression of her love for me.

I so wish I could have grasped the depth of Rosie’s love for me before she died.
I used to feel terribly guilty about this… I’m slowly learning I don’t have to. Rosie and I did the best we could in our relationship. It just grieves me that she was unable to grasp the depths of pain I carried, and I was unable to grasp the depth of her love for me.

What happens to friendships…

I’m aware that some who read the following paragraphs may find them tough, or possibly even feel guilty. This is NOT remotely my intent.

Rosie assured me many times that after she died I would have an endless stream of meal invitations from our many friends. In contrast, others I spoke to said many friends simply disappeared after they lost their partners.

The others were right. To my surprise (and sadness) most people who were friends of both of us just vanished… I had very few visits, phone calls or invitations. If it hadn’t been for my family and the top-quality blokes around me, life could have been very lonely. Thankfully these friends and my family more than adequately filled the gap and I was far from being lonely or unsupported.

Nonetheless, it raised some deep questions. How could this happen? And why did it happen to others as well?

It’s taken 3 years, but I finally understand…

It’s just too painful…

Over the years before Rosie died some of her friends became close friends of mine too, most being women and couples, with Rosie being the primary connection. These ‘secondary’ relationships were no less valuable than my other friendships.

While the primary relationship is in place these relationships have an environment in which to grow. However, when you lose your partner, this environment no longer exists and the relationships can change surprisingly rapidly.

We all shy away from things in life that cause us pain. Deep grief and the need to self-protect from pain cause people to act in ways they never intended. Catching up with me was simply too painful for many people who were very close to Rosie.

Seeing me was a confronting reminder of the one who they were missing deeply. Of the few who visited me at home, simply stepping into our house caused some to dissolve in tears. I had no option but to adjust to being in the house without Rosie… for others my house was a home full of reminders of her, but painfully empty of Rosie herself.

What I expected of these friends was unrealistic and unfair… it took quite a while for me to grasp this.

Some relationships are slowly returning. I will gladly accept those that do, but I will not rush them… grief can last a long time.

And it is okay if others never return. Things change and life moves on for all of us.  I no longer feel hurt, I’m just glad I now understand.

I could add so much more…

So many things have happened since losing Rosie.  Life events large and small, ups and downs, and many new insights. A few of the significant ones…

Losing Rosie, and much that followed, was deeply painful, but I can honestly say my life has never been better than it is today. I know Rosie would be overjoyed to hear this!

The deep depression that I feared for so many years could be back with force after Rosie died shows no signs of returning. Yes, I’ve been through some very difficult patches, but my mental state is better than ever.

I no longer have the endless emotional rollercoaster stress of Rosie’s 16 years with cancer, and thankfully neither does she.

I have much more time and energy to invest in people… especially my children, grandchildren and close friends.

Relationships have become an even more precious part of life… they have been integral to my survival, and allow me to receive and give so much of value.

Being single has huge benefits. For the first time in life I can do what I want when I want (within reason). This season of freedom is an incredibly precious gift.

Yes, I feel a vacuum, but it’s a very healthy one. For the moment I am discovering “the new Ian James” and (mostly) enjoying the adventure.

Looking forward…

Rosie was adamant that I should marry again. I greatly appreciated the freedom she gave me here. In typical Rosie fashion, she even wanted to give me a list of ‘recommended’ women!  I politely but firmly declined her offer… I’ll be making my own choices here!

I expect I’ll partner again, but there’s no hurry.
Part of discovering who I am is discovering what I want both myself and the other person to bring to a marriage.

It’s not simply a matter of finding ‘a woman who can satisfy my needs’.
Genuinely loving your partner means fulfilling their needs as well. And fulfilling one another is just the beginning. Actively facilitating growth in each other is an even better place to be.

A final word…

As profoundly difficult as losing a loved one is, life goes on.

When Rosie woke each morning she was always so excited to have another day. Her motto and legacy was ‘Live well and die well’.

Like Rosie, I want to live this new chapter of my life to the full.
ian-dingo

 

Ian James 1st Oct 2017

© 2017 Ian James, http://www.onlivingauthentically.com

Category:

Death and Beyond, Grieving well - Going on well, Losing Rosie, New beginnings, Wholehearted Living

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Yes & No voters… Go gently with each other

September 1, 2017

People are getting angry… and angry people hurt others.

We all need to take the marriage equality vote (aka known as Same-Sex Marriage) very seriously.

We also need to go gently with everyone around us, regardless of who they are and where they stand.

Very vocal, impassioned (sometimes angry) people on BOTH sides are saying “WE have the Truth” and frequently imply “God is on OUR side”. However, while the vote may be black and white, the issue and most people’s thinking on the issue are not.

We are all on a journey that involves a major transition in our personal and nation-wide thinking. Ten years ago I would have voted No, five years ago it would have been a very difficult decision for me. Today I will vote Yes without hesitation, but that doesn’t mean I have no questions and concerns about some implications of this change.

All of us, wherever our thinking is at, need to keep respecting and listening to one another. Judging one another causes people to respond defensively and will often hinder people making the transition because they ‘dig in’ where they are at.

And be aware, some people will never change their minds… but that’s okay. Perhaps we actually need these people to help ensure we carefully address and manage the profound implications of this transition as we move into the future.

ian-dingo
Ian James 01-09-2017

© 2017 Ian James, http://www.onlivingauthentically.com

Category:

Uncategorized

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Bright Moments in the Darkness

June 21, 2017

Times of darkness can give birth to moments of brightness that owe their existence to the very darkness out of which they were born. And the deeper the darkness, the brighter these moments can be.

Losing a loved friend or family member is always traumatic. Losing them tragically adds shock to the trauma. Losing them to suicide is something else again… it leaves you numb and confused, and the darkness is especially dark.

Prior to Jilly’s memorial service I went to her unit to collect some items needed for the service and her burial. It wasn’t an easy task and I was very glad to have Jilly’s pastor, Julie, with me.

As I pulled into the driveway I noticed a young woman with a little boy outside one of the other units. She saw me drive in and looked at me more intently than a stranger usually does. I wondered if this could be the same young woman who found Jilly after the event.

All we knew about the person who found Jilly was that she was a young mum with her pre-school son coming to visit her elderly grandmother in another unit. When she saw Jilly at a distance she quickly ushered her son inside, called the ambulance, and tried unsuccessfully to help Jilly, but it was long past the point anything could be done.

Since that time I have been feeling deeply for this young mum. No doubt she was deeply traumatised by the event, but we had no way of making contact with her, assuming that this was even appropriate.

I then saw the young woman enter the unit where I knew the elderly grandmother lived. Almost certainly it was her.

At this point Julie arrived and we spent time gathering the items we came to collect. As we were about to leave I noticed the young woman was in her car outside the grandmother’s unit also getting ready to leave. A deep sense of compassion welled up along with an urgency to connect with her… this was likely the only opportunity we would have.

Julie and I quickly headed over to her car and flagged her to stop. When she opened her window we introduced ourselves, and sure enough it was the same woman. What followed was very special… Julie and I expressed our sorrow and concern at the trauma she had experienced, and she in turn expressed her care for us having tragically lost a dear friend. We encouraged her to get whatever help and support she needed… if not dealt with, experiences like these can scar a person deeply for life, with long-term destructive consequences.

As the conversation drew to a close I felt moved to say to her, “If you weren’t sitting in the car, and if it was okay, I’d be giving you a big hug right now”. At that she got out of the car and we hugged each other.

It was a profound and precious moment.
The light had broken through and shone brightly in the darkness.

 

ian-dingo
Ian James 21-06-2017

© 2017 Ian James, http://www.onlivingauthentically.com

Category:

Grief, Losing Jilly, Pain and Suffering

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My Reflection on Jilly Daines…

June 2, 2017

Jilly Daines was a very close friend for 25 years. On May 9th 2017 her life came to a sudden, tragic end. We held a memorial service for her earlier this week on May 30th.  I shared this reflection on her life at the service…

~~~

I’m going to tell you a story. Like all good stories it contains both the dramatic and the hilarious. None of it is fictitious; it is a very real story. It is the story of Jilly’s life. I hope it will give you an insight into who our dear friend Jilly was, and why her life followed the path it did.

I’d like to begin borrowing part of a quote used by Winston Churchill at the beginning of World War 2. He used these words in an entirely different context… nonetheless, his words provide a perfect description of who Jilly was.

Jilly was “a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma”.

~~~

I first met Jilly about 25 years ago when she appeared at a Blackburn Baptist Church evening service and my wife Rosie brought her home afterwards for coffee. Jilly quickly became friends with Rosie and I and from that night on she was a regular visitor in our home.

Over the years Jilly and I developed a unique bond. Both of us had experienced many years of deep depression and we often shared deeply how thing were going for us. Jilly was one of the few people who really understood my pain because she’d been there, and even more so. Whenever we talked about the tough things of life she showed a deep capacity for care and compassion.

We also shared a love of hilarious jokes and antics… although Jilly’s depression and her crazy humour both more extreme than mine!

Our times together were a mixture of deep sharing interspersed with bouncing jokes and funny life moments off each other which prompted no end of raucous laughter.

One night I affectionately referred to Jilly as “My Crazy Diamond” echoing the Pink Floyd song “Shine on you Crazy Diamond”. Jilly loved her nickname and a few days later coined the name Pink Diamond (a rare, valuable type of diamond) for me. From then on we became CD and PD.

Jilly and I were like brother and sister.

~~~

When a person’s life comes to a tragic end one of the painful questions we all ask is “Why?”

Rather than allowing rumours and speculation fill the gap I want to give you at least a broad insight into Jilly’s struggles.

Jilly’s severe depression arose out of two issues:

The first, was a deep sense of abandonment. She felt she was emotionally stuck in childhood and couldn’t move on. She tried so many types of therapy and medication to seek relief from her pain; she sought answers from her Christian faith, but found nothing that filled the yawning vacuum within.

The second was confusion about her identity which lead to her feeling socially awkward and unable to fit in or relate to others. Jilly so wished she could have married and had children but could not bear committing herself to such a relationship. As a result she ended up living alone and lonely.

Jilly’s isolation sadly grew worse with time. Over the years she developed relationships with many people who came into her life and genuinely cared for her. Sadly many of these relationships came to a sudden end. Jilly’s feelings of abandonment and inability to fit in socially frequently lead her to mistake innocent comments or attempts to help her as rejection or criticism. This often triggered a deep anger that she felt unable to control, leading her to abandon the relationship… just as she felt abandoned herself.

Some of you here today have had that painful experience… I hope this helps you to understand why.

~~~

It is very important to understand that Jilly did not end her life lightly. For years she lived on the sharp edge of hopelessness. Despite all the efforts of those supporting her, both professionally and personally, in the end she believed that no-one and nothing could ever take away her pain. At the same time she could not bear to cause deep pain for those of us left behind, in particular her family who, I know without any doubt, she dearly loved.

Jilly often expressed deep frustration and anger towards God for apparently not listening to her cries for help… she would often say in her humorous but very serious way “and God’s in the bath again cutting His toenails!”. Nonetheless I want to assure you Jilly had a very real faith in God and at the end had no doubt whatsoever God would be waiting in heaven to welcome her when she arrived. God is a big enough father to handle any childhood rage we might want to throw at Him.

~~~

But it’s important to see that Jilly was so much more than just her darkness.

Jilly had a deep empathy for others. Whenever I shared my own struggles with her she always listened attentively with love and care. She would sometimes offer her own insights but never tried to fix me. She frequently emphasized that if ever she rang I had complete freedom to not answer if I was struggling myself at the time. Jilly cared for me and loved me deeply as a brother… I am really going to miss my supportive friend.

~~~

Jilly had a unique and incredible sense of humour. But it was not just her jokes! It was her antics!

Jilly felt like she didn’t fit in the regular mold and expressed it by intentionally being different. For many years she wore odd socks every single day as a protest against the pressure to conform. She delighted in other people wearing odd socks in response and would hand out Freddo Frogs as a reward.

One evening I took her to a Woolworths supermarket to buy some groceries. She spotted a life-sized cardboard cutout of a smiling, ‘ready-to-help’ staff member being used in store at the time. She picked it up, hid behind it and walked around the store holding it in front of her. I followed her a few paces back carrying the groceries and not knowing whether to laugh or die of embarrassment. The staff had no idea how to handle it!

On another occasion a group of us took her to a restaurant for her birthday. Jilly brought a pack of confectionery snakes to share. It wasn’t long before she had a snake hanging out of each ear and one out of each nostril! Jilly didn’t allow herself to be constrained by fear of what other people thought… something we can all learn from.

Another time Jilly invited a group of us to have coffee at her favourite plant nursery. The one condition was that we had to wear odd socks in order to score a Freddo Frog. Well Jilly didn’t just come wearing odd socks… she came dressed as a fully made-up zombie! Her clothes, make-up, hair colouring and her priceless blank expressions were just hilarious. Other customers had absolutely no idea what to think as she wandered around the store at random… she carried out the role perfectly!

Having no family in Australia, Jilly often joined neighbours or friends to celebrate Christmas Day. She came to our place a number of times and one hot Christmas Day we somehow got into a full-on water fight inside the house. I remember Jilly sitting on the family room couch just outside the kitchen servery window. I part filled a bucket of water, crept up to the other side of the servery, and tipped the bucket over her… but Jilly was one step ahead of me… she’d already donned a raincoat she’d found somewhere around the house.

Jilly loved Billy Connelly and his ‘no holds barred’ humour. Billy Connelly has a brilliant sense of humour that resonated with Jilly’s own rebellion against conformity and political correctness.

When Jilly was being funny she came to life. It was like all the darkness was suspended and she entered in a joyful, hilarious freedom. She had such a unique ability to engage others and take us into that space with her.

~~~

I could tell you a lot more about Jilly’s humour and antics but it’s time to return to the beginning.

Jilly was “a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma”.

On the one hand she struggled with deep depression.
On the other hand she had an incredible sense of humour and the ability to draw others into that joyful space.
Wrapping up both was a deep love and care for other people.

Jilly was two extremes wrapped into one and was a mystery… even to herself.

To me though, more importantly, she was a precious sister… one who I could share anything with and never be judged… one who I could laugh with until I cried… My Crazy Diamond who I will dearly miss.

While I will never forget the depths of Jilly’s pain, what I will forever hold dear and remember her for is the hilarity we shared together. For me Jilly’s brightness will always outshine the darkness and I will remember her with a broad, cheeky smile on her face.

I hope that heaven is indeed a reality, a place where Jilly is still very much alive, and free of all the pain she experienced in this life.

When I too walk through those doors I will be longing to see Rosie, and my little daughter Anna who we lost at birth, and other family members who have gone before.
I will then be looking for Jilly and expect she’ll be longing excitedly to see me, ready for a big hug, with that huge, cheeky smile across her face!

 

ian-dingo
Ian James 30-05-2017

© 2017 Ian James, http://www.onlivingauthentically.com

Category:

Death and Beyond, Grief, Losing Jilly

2 Comments

Life’s encounters… Heartfelt questions…

May 21, 2017

Two very different life encounters touched my heart on the same day last week.
While the common thread was love, the two were in stark contrast…

A little boy’s love…

My daughter Liesel needed to be in the city until early evening and asked if I could pick up Flynn from care. When I arrived a very tired little boy was almost asleep on the floor surrounded by other children. His head was at the foot of a couch so I reached over from behind and tickled his hair. He turned around, saw me, and without a word climbed onto the couch and into my arms. He wrapped his arms tightly around my neck and gave me a hug that only a young child can give. He has given me many such hugs from a young age… the joy and deep love that surges through my heart every time never diminishes.

A little later, as we drove home, a voice from the back seat said, “I love being your kid (grandkid)”. Again he touched my heart with the innocent, uncomplicated, totally unconditional love of a child.

After we’d had a two course dinner (a bowl of Weetbix followed by a bowl of spaghetti!) my phone rang. Liesel was on her way home and we talked until she pulled up outside.

I said to Flynn, “Let’s go and meet Mummy at the front door!”. Flynn and I ran down the corridor and as we arrived at the door he said, “We can scare her!”. This was not quite what I had in mind so I suggested we yell “Surprise!” instead. Flynn responded with a precious alternative, “No, we’ll say ‘I love you!’” and, “You say it when I say it Grandad!”.

I squatted down next to him and we waited while Liesel got organized to come in. A car door closed outside. I looked at Flynn and said, “She’s coming!”. Flynn focused on the door with frequent quick glances in my direction. I’ll never forget the look on his face. He was glowing with excitement, his eyes were bright with joy, and his body was shaking as he could barely contain himself.

Soon a shadow crossed the window next to the door and the door opened. We both yelled, “I love you!” and Flynn wrapped himself around Mummy’s legs. I think Liesel melted on the spot.

How incredibly precious these moments are! The beautiful innocence and unfettered feelings of childhood pass so quickly… thankfully we have memories we can hold onto forever… provided we make time to be part of them.

An old lady’s sadness…

The other encounter occurred while I was visiting Mumma (Rosie’s Mum) at her retirement village earlier in the day.

While there I happened to sit next to a very elderly lady in a wheelchair. We got talking and she shared a little of her story over the last few days… She began with a smile, “My family came to visit on Sunday (Mothers Day) and we had such a wonderful time!”

Her face began to fall, “But since then I’ve been feeling flat.” I gently enquired why and she replied, “When I lived in independently in the village I had so many friends. Now that I’m in The Manor (the high care facility) and I’m restricted to a wheelchair I can’t move around on my own. The staff take me to the daily activities but I no longer see my old friends and it’s been difficult to make friends here.” I suspect her apparent deafness had a lot to do with this.

She continued, “Since Mother’s Day I’ve been feeling lonely and bored. I have a very nice room here but I spend so much time there alone. Very few of my family visit… most of them don’t come at all. I tried to contact one of my grandchildren two years ago but they never got back to me, so I thought I would just let them be.”

She was now quite sad. I had no words to relieve her sadness. Feeling very awkward the best I could manage was, “Yes, everybody is so busy these days, it seems they find it hard to make time to visit”. Knowing that all I’d done is tell her what she already knew, I added, “But that does not make it right”. I felt so inadequate and knew my words had only reinforced her sadness. But what else do you say??

The conversation continued a little longer but she soon drifted off onto a completely different topic.

My thoughts turned to what life must be like for Mumma, and the many other elderly people around her, all facing the same situation.

Isolation is such a problem for our elderly people. The wider family circle has long broken down in our broken society. Knowing I had no answers to offer left me with a sad heart and painful questions I want to answer.

I then thought about my own elderly years, still quite a way off, but inexorable in their approach… Will my experience be the same? What can I do now to make it different when I’m elderly?

And, food for thought… Will your experience be the same? What can you do now to ensure you don’t find yourself isolated with diminishing life quality in your elderly years?

The common thread…

All of us, young and old, have an inbuilt need to connect with others at a deep level; connection with family is especially important.

Deep connection is the essence of love and meaningful relationships. Lack of this connection stunts the growth of young children, causes elderly people to die, and creates a yawning vacuum within anyone in between.

But relationships cannot exist unless we are prepared to invest time.

We live in a society where everyone is under stress and time poor; there are so many demands, so many ‘important things we have to do’, and not enough time to do them all.

So what falls off the edge? Often it’s quality time with other people. Family get taken for granted, our children get displaced by our work, we put our elderly folk in ‘care’ homes where they risk becoming isolated and alone. Quality accommodation, good food and excellent medical care can never replace the one thing they really need… love in the form of deep connection with family and friends.

The bottom line is that all our loved ones, friends, family, young, old, need US.

I’m not aiming to create a sense of guilt or regret here. Neither of these help us resolve this problem. Instead we need to face the question of what (more correctly who… our children, the elderly, each other) is most important in our lives and how we can give quality time to those who need our time and our love.

Every relationship we have in life comes to an end at some point. The only time we have to invest in them is now.

Something worth all of us thinking about.

ian-dingo

 

Ian James

© Copyright reserved
21-05-2017

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Uncategorized

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A new light in my life…

March 29, 2017

A single candle

There is something primal about a candle burning in the dark. The warmth and light provided by fire since the early dawn of mankind is captured in one small flame.

A candle offers security and comfort. Just one flame keeps the darkness at bay, along with all that is hidden by it.

A candle allows us to see. We can safely navigate a path through the dark, avoiding obstacles and holes that would otherwise cause us to stumble and fall.

A candle deepens our connection with others. It reveals only those nearby and focuses our attention on them. Seeing those we love in the soft, gentle light enhances the intimacy we experience together.

A candle touches our spirit with a profound juxtaposition. The tiny flame is so fragile it can be extinguished with a single breath, and yet, if set free, it has the power to become a raging fire. Holding that power captive in a single flame allows us to master one of the most powerful forces on earth. But still it commands our awe and respect… allow it to escape and it will pay us no heed as it sets our world on fire.

Exploring mindfulness

Over recent months I’ve been doing daily mindfulness exercises using a mobile phone app called Headspace.  Fifteen minutes a day has already proved its worth many times over. Becoming aware of my thoughts and feelings moment by moment is enabling me to understand and manage my thinking and decisions in a way I’ve never been able to before.

Instead of automatically reacting to situations, being aware of what I’m thinking and feeling at that time allows me to choose how I respond. Instead of being controlled by negative feelings such as anxiety, frustration, anger and depression, I am better able to acknowledge they are there, accept them, and make life-giving choices in the face of them.

I’m becoming more aware of what is happening in conversations with others… What is the other person really saying? Why are they saying it? How are they feeling? Instead of being absorbed by the impulse to ‘have my say’ and respond with my opinions, experiences and solutions, I can listen more intently and focus on understanding them. It is usually better to say less and listen more, in order to be more empathetic and  contribute more value when I do speak.

The mindfulness app began with a 30 day introductory pack called Foundations. You can then choose from a range of topic specific packs. So far I’ve worked through Anxiety, Acceptance, Sleep packs. Along with the mindfulness exercises each pack provides simple tips and techniques for getting the most out of the topic.

There is much more to mindfulness to than this but let’s get back to the candle…

My bedtime candle

One of the tips suggested in the Sleep pack was to set in place simple habits that tell your brain it’s soon time to sleep. These habits help your body and mind to begin relaxing even before you get into bed.

I now have a bedtime candle…

2017-03-24 Bedtime candle 1

My candle is mounted in a beautiful old brass candle holder… the classic design that allows you to safely carry a lighted candle from room to room. Each night after I’ve cleaned my teeth, taken my tablets and been to the bathroom, I light the candle in the kitchen and carry it to my bedroom, turning off the lights as I go. Placing the candle in front of the mirror on my chest of drawers fills the room with a beautiful, soft light. I change into my pajamas by candlelight, get into bed and blow out the tiny flame as my last act of the day.

It’s such a simple habit, but it is beautiful and profound at the same time. I guess this is how (healthy) rituals develop… simple acts that take on a much deeper meaning beyond the acts themselves. A pre-sleep habit encourages our minds to let go of the busyness of the day, and prepares our bodies to release all the physical tension that builds during the day.

Much more than a candle

One night when I put the candle on the dressing table I was fascinated by the reflections in the mirror and the way the light fell on some special items I keep on my dressing table.

The ‘Willow Tree’ Grandfather and Grandson statuette caught my eye. The soft light and shadows added a new dimension of beauty to an ornament that captures the precious relationship between myself and my 4 year old grandson Flynn.

I then noticed how the candle lit up a collection of three dice I have created over the years out of redgum, softwood and talc stone. Creativity is a gift that I value greatly. To be able to bring ideas to life using my own hands gives me a great deal of fulfilment. My writing and photography are other aspects of this gift. Each time I build, write or capture a ‘Wow!’ image, I feel like I have been given a gift to both enjoy myself and share with others.

My childhood teddy is very dear to me… as a very young boy I loved my teddy very much and cuddled it every night. But even more important is that provides a direct link to my Mum, who died unexpectedly when I was only 8 years old. I remember sitting next to her in the back seat of my Uncle’s car on a long holiday trip. Mum was knitting the jacket my teddy still wears to this day. This jacket captures the fact that my mother, whose severe illness left her unable to care for me for much of my early life, did in fact love me deeply, rather than being a woman who abandoned me during those critical years.

A new light in my life

I find it amazing that a single candle has brought to life so much more than I initially expected or hoped for!  Not only does it help my mind and body settle for sleep at night. It highlights the precious gift of creativity which inspires, fulfils and humbles me. It reinforces the connection I feel with my beautiful grandson. And it allows me to see that the mother who had no control over leaving me at such a young age was not only my mother but my loving Mum.

ian-dingo

Ian James
29/03/2017

Category:

Mindfulness, New beginnings, Wholehearted Living

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The meaning of Trees

March 22, 2017

Nature has a dimension that extends beyond what we see with our eyes.
If we take the time out of our endlessly busy lives to quietly be in her midst, she sometimes reveals her secrets… deep truths about ourselves, humanity and the universe…

Too great an expanse, the daytime sky,
Too majestic, the heavens at night,
For ancient trees to support the veil above forever.

One by one they grow,
Each tiny seedling stretching for the sun.
Lifetimes pass before the giant,
Beautiful, tall and strong,
Reaches the sky and takes its turn to hold it in place,

Immortal their stand appears to be,
But age and decay overtake them all,
In violent storms, or stillness,
One by one they fall.

But others take their load,
And none stood there in vain.
They held the skies,
While the Earth flourished below,
And their young grew around their feet.

Who are we, but trees?
Always reaching for the stars.
The full expanse of love and life,
Ever just beyond our grasp.

We hold humanity’s standard high,
Through Ages dark and bright.
Weaving a tapestry from life’s myriad strands,
As we struggle towards the Light.

But like trees we’re not immortal,
Age and decay overtake us all.
In life’s violent storms, or stillness,
One by one we fall.

But others then take up our load,
Our lives are not in vain.
We hold the skies,
While the World toils and plays below,
And our young grow around our feet.

 

ian-dingo

 

Ian James
22/03/2017

 

 

 

Category:

My Poems

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The power of what is NOT said…

March 8, 2017

The skill in listening is not only in hearing what the other person says, but hearing what they don’t.

Often what is absent from a person’s conversation reveals far more than what they say.

An example… A person who often speaks about their husband/wife/partner in glowing terms conveys the impression of a deep, fulfilling and happy relationship. If in all this they never mention the word ‘love’ therein can lay a very different story.

 “He who has ears to hear, let him hear…”

The skill in writing is as much in what you don’t say, as in what you do.

If the reader has to think and fill in the gaps, they may gain meaning and inspiration far beyond even what you intended. They are much more likely to remember and be impacted by insights they worked out for themselves.

 Write what is essential; delete the good, keep only the best.
Spoon-feeding produces children not adults. 

ian-dingo

Ian James
08/03/2017

Category:

Communicating and Connecting, Relationships

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The Threshold

March 5, 2017

A dream, a hope, a belief I hold close…

I’m standing on the threshold of this life, and what comes next,
That liminal space between what was, and what is to come,
The doorway, the veil, the light, or the darkness,
Even a precipice holds no fear.
Just one more step
Shall I fall, or float, or soar?
Or find new unseen ground beneath my feet?
It matters not
Death is no more the end of life than it is the beginning
The end of one tired journey, time to start anew.

And if this belief fails me
For no-one can know for sure
If death is truly The End of this “i am”
I will have lost all, and nothing
As “i am” will not be there to say “i was”, and grieve

But to me this makes no sense
So without shame I hold this hope
The essence of “i am” will continue on

Sunrise will follow sunset
(If indeed there is still a Sun)
A new realm beyond comprehension
That earthly words, and dreams, even imaginings, cannot grasp

What will I perceive in this new paradigm?
And how?
Will I see, hear, touch? Will I think and feel?
Or will my senses and mind be so transformed
That perceiving and being are completely new?

I wonder now how I will wonder then.

And far more crucial than What,
Who will I find?
How will we interact, and connect, and love?
If relationships exist at all.
Perhaps a myriad of “i ams” will be “we are”
Each unique, yet all as one.

But this threshold is a far horizon
Much yet to see, love, be and do
Or maybe not
I may be surprised
And next moment wake somewhere new.

ian-dingo

Ian James
05/03/2017

 

 

 

Category:

Death and Beyond, Living Well, Dying Well, My Poems, New beginnings

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If YOU don’t choose your future…

February 12, 2017

… SOMEONE ELSE WILL, and YOU MAY NOT LIKE IT!

How many elderly people do you know who are happy, fulfilled, have a strong sense of self-worth and purpose, and spend much of their time relating to family and close friends?

Growing old in our society

Experience with three elderly family members in their 90’s has raised serious questions about the future all of us are facing.

Western society has come a long way in improving the physical and medical care for elderly people, but when it comes to valuing their wisdom and experience, and maintaining their mental, emotional and social well-being we’re falling dismally short.

As people age we tend to view them as having little value to offer; they become a burden on society; we let them become progressively more isolated in their own homes, or send them off to retirement villages and ultimately nursing homes, where they are kept warm, clothed, fed and cleaned and spend their days being entertained by activities suitable for children. Meaningful social contact fades away, and their sense of worth and purpose wither. How many elderly people sit day after day doing little more than passively waiting to die?

Is this the future you want for yourself when you are old?? I doubt it.

It’s tragic that unless we die young, all of us are heading inexorably to this place, but few of us (me included until recently) are doing anything to change our direction or destination.

The bottom line is that if you don’t make choices to determine how you will live your elderly years someone else will make them for you. Even if family and medical experts genuinely care they may not fully understand your needs and desires at this stage.

A common response is, “Of course I’ll make these decisions for myself… But not now, I’ll do it when I’m older.” Here lays the big trap…  leave the decisions too late and you may have limited options available or have lost the ability to assess what is best for you. Change is gets more difficult as we age; unless we make plans in advance we will likely resist even considering it until circumstances force our hand or remove the choices from us altogether.

Please share your thoughts…

How can we do things differently?

What choices can we make now to ensure we maintain a happy, fulfilling life that provides value, purpose and meaningful social connection (as well as adequate physical and medical care) in our elderly years?

Sharing your thoughts will not only be help me and others who read this blog. You will also help yourself to begin the journey of ensuring you have the future you want. (And, you will be helping the group of blokes I meet with once a month discuss this topic at our next meeting.)

ian-dingo

Ian James
12/02/2017

Category:

Wholehearted Living

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