Tag Archive for: family

My question for you… how are you, right now? (All answers accepted!)

/0 Comments/by

Gosh, it’s been a minute! So much has happened in the past month—an art residency in Greece, my completion of two certifications in the past week, and more…

Yet the more pressing question right now is: how are you? What are the elements of your life that comprise your answer?

This can be a challenging time of year. It’s a time of very public celebrations—Mother’s Day, Memorial Day, Father’s Day, July 4th, and private celebrations too. And, anniversaries of special and wonderful events, and perhaps death days/anniversaries, too. I know all of these things are on my mind. And grief too, which arrives unexpectedly at times, after reading a poem, putting on a piece of clothing or jewelry, or making a favorite meal.

As I celebrated Mother’s Day, I thought a lot about my mom and her influence on my life. As Father’s Day arrived, I reminisced about my dad’s curious mind, adventurous spirit, and our family travels around the world. And just this week was the second anniversary of the death of our most recent canine companion, Gus… sometimes, I still cry when I think of him. Of course, I remember him with joy too. I think that I am better able to keep continuing bonds with my parents because of how their influence shows up in some much of what I do—they feel present. With Gus, I miss his sheer delight in being loved, and while I keep him in my heart and mind, it is the very visceral experience of his being that has been lost.

I wonder if now is a good time for you to explore the question I posed and to create the nuanced answer of your sense of how you are today… as days and times during the day can be different, right? (I do love the title and the ideas offered up in, Grief is a Sneaky Bitch, written by Lisa Keefauver.)

I know that there are times when I need to decide when and how much I will open up to what’s happening with me… and that’s almost never in the middle of my work day. For me, it’s the early morning with my first cup of coffee in hand—sometimes before, sometimes after meditating. Other times, it’s the late afternoon (with a cup of coffee) or an early weekend morning, when I devote time to creating an altar in remembrance. Other times, it’s part of catching up with a friend—sharing highs, lows, and all that’s in between.

Over the past three years, I have discovered and explored an ever-increasing range of resources for working with our loss and grief—articles, books, podcasts, coaching, and more.  If I can be of service in locating resources for you, a loved one or a friend, please reach out to me.

Symbols and Meaning-Making

/0 Comments/by

To say that I was raised Presbyterian is not accurate. I grew up going to church on Sundays. As a teenager, I sang in the choir. I was totally engaged in the teen group. For me, being at church was a social, not a religious experience. For my mom, it was both.

I remember one year, at Easter, there was an opportunity to purchase a lily plant in honor of a family member. I bought one for my mom, and it was placed on the dais along with all the other lilies purchased by church members. I thought my mom would like it. (My teen years weren’t the easiest between us.) What I discovered was that lilies were not a symbol of love and beauty to her. They were a reminder of death. Perhaps because they had accompanied the death/burial of one of her parents—at least that’s what I’m guessing. We never actually spoke about it. I believe that she appreciated the gesture. How interesting—the different meanings we held.

It’s more than 50 years later, and I am now crying over this memory. Something I never would’ve anticipated as I sat down to talk my way through this story about symbols, associations, conversations, and shared meaning-making. I am also filled with sadness over the years of misunderstandings and difficult times she and I had. Though I am feeling a small sense of happiness to know that, for the most part, over the years, we found ways to transcend the difficulties.

I’m often struck by how deeply I was influenced by someone who, in so many respects, was so different from me. I attribute my love of cooking, baking, knitting, and volunteerism to my mother’s lived examples—and perhaps her strong will, too. I am known as the heir apparent of her culinary skills in my family. It is no small mantle to wear, as she was an extraordinary cook, and I am quite good. She is the Julia Child of cooking, while I am more like Claire Saffitz, with flashes of Julia. I bring my mom into conversations quite often, sharing aspects of who she was in my life, as I grew up. She contributed in fundamental ways to how I show up in the world. (While perhaps this isn’t surprising news, to me this realization feels like an honoring of my ancestry.)

As I was growing up, it was much easier to be with and see how I was more like my dad – his thoughtful nature, intellectual rigor, steady nature, strong ethics, progressive politics, kindness, curiosity, and love of extraordinary travel adventures around the world created the foundation for an easy relationship with him.

All this reflection grew from a memory prompted by seeing students leave school at midday for a long holiday weekend. Thinking of Easter brought to mind a picture of a lily plant,  a meaningful experience with my mom, and the intriguing realities of symbols and the associations they hold.

How do you honor your ancestry, the beings (people and companion animals) in your life, and yourself?
What symbols hold meaning for you?

I will be reflecting on the symbols and memories I want to add to the ephemeral earth art I will create tomorrow in my workshop, Experience the Alchemy of Nature, Ritual, and Creativity. If you would like to learn a practice for exploring your feelings, thoughts, and questions, I hope you’ll join me in this workshop or one in the future. Learn more here. (And email me if the window for registration has closed by the time you read this. I can send you the introductory materials.)

PS: I am also feeling inspired to offer a few resources on working with our memories, which sometimes includes our grief. Here are a few recent favorites, please reach out to me for more and, if you’re ready to working with some of the grief you are holding, let’s have a conversation.

  • Grief Challenge, found on the Happier app here, (I am happy to invite you),
  • www.griefmatters.ca
  • www.opentohope.com
  • www.everemore.org—I am partnering with Evermore to offer Alchemizing Nature, Ritual, and Creativity to Work with Our Grief and Loss on May 20th. Here is the link to register. It is also listed with other events of mine on my calendar, here.

How far into the future are you looking?

/0 Comments/by

Last week, I hosted a Death Café at my local library. There were so many people in attendance! The range of participants, their experiences, stories, questions, emotions, laughter, and tenderness toward each other was astonishing… so human.

I’ll be honest, the guidelines of the Death Café are important, and at times, I still struggle to follow them. It’s really my nature (? desire) to discover, explore, and share resources. That is not what the Café is about. Cafés are places to share thoughts, feelings, practical and philosophical questions—not advice or resources. What occurs during our 90 minutes together, aside from enjoying tea and cake, is co-created within the guidelines… we are there to be with and hear each other.

The other night, I was struck by the chasm between the number of resources that I have explored over the past few years and the lack of general knowledge about what’s available these days to support us in making plans for our final departure. Truth be told, the number of books, podcasts, articles, and videos, not to mention workshops and group experiences, is almost overwhelming. I have created a curated list for my work to help folks begin the process.

This snippet, from the current End Well newsletter, echoed my sharing last night, which was received with some surprise.

“the end of life is not something that happens to us. It’s something we can shape—through intention, creativity, and connection to what matters most.”

Though everyone in the room had experienced the death of a loved one and had some knowledge and/or experience with the tasks that accompany our final weeks and days, very few had thought about planning for their own dying and death.

I shared about recently attending a funeral and how it reminded me to write a note to all who would attend my celebration of life ceremony. I want to create an experience that will be special for them… with a few thoughts from me, an opportunity for them to tell stories of our times together, with music, good food, and drink, in the clothes that feel right to them—be it black or a wild array of colors (picking up the thread from the previous post).

I have lived/am living a good, full life, so fortunate to have close friends and family. My plan is to create that feeling of being together again—by fond memories—because I believe that we remain in the hearts and minds of those we have touched during our time in this world.

PS: If you’re curious about Death Cafés, visit the site to discover when and where it all began (at this point, over 20,000 Cafés have been held in person and online), what it’s all about, and how you can access one, if it feels right.

PPS: I’m hosting the next Cafe in NYC through Creative Mornings Clubs on August 24th and again on September 21st (register for free here), and at the Suffern Library on September 25th. Learn more about the Cafés I host here. 

Written Sunday morning…

/1 Comment/by

As I dress for the funeral this morning, my mind roams in many directions…

Of course, I’ll wear black, though my secret desire is to wear a long dress of red, pink, and orange flowers, as the deceased, my friend’s mother, loved flowers. I don’t know the extended family well enough to ensure that I’m not disrespecting their wishes, so I follow tradition…

I open my jewelry boxes and ponder. I’ve lived a long time and have jewelry from  both sides of my family and my own collection. Three generations of pearls seems too much for today (though I have worn three pearl necklaces before—it feels wrong to leave out anyone). Instead, I choose three pendants:

  • A gold disk with my birthstone and engraved with my initials on one side and my great uncle’s partner’s initials on the other
  • A 1.5-inch gold charm of a little girl holding an amethyst heart that I gave to my mom, representing her granddaughter/my daughter
  • A one-inch gold jester/clown from Italy that moves like a marionette, which my parents gave to me after one of their trips there. (I can’t remember if they bought it to recognize my volunteering as a clown years ago in hospital settings. I only know that it makes me smile.)

The chains holding the pendants are a combination of my mother’s and mine.

I don my dad’s gold watch, given to him by his uncle.

Then, I clip two of the same bracelets around one of my wrists —my mom had bought one for each of us.

Deciding which earrings to wear is tough… I picked up the long gold teardrop earrings from the family trip to Israel in 1976.

Lastly, I turn to rings and choose a simple black and gold one from one of our trips to Africa and a big, sleek gold dolphin from our trip to Greece in 1975. My mom loved big rings… I rarely wear them.

I feel enveloped in memories and family… and ready to step into car for the drive to the cemetery.

Never too old, never too late…

/0 Comments/by

An early morning exchange on WhatsApp between Drawifiers* prompted me to take a moment to reflect on beginnings. Perhaps more literally, starting something brand new.

My colleague Bene was posting on LI, sharing in detail, for the first time, how he came to be an illustrator in his fifties. And, just today, he’s beginning to step fully into using the power of LI. (Perhaps visit his page and share a little love and appreciation for his work.) Joao piped up and said he was starting to do the same (leverage LI) at 38. Axelle chimed in and said she started a start-up  (Drawify) at 47. I added that I  might just win the “start something new prize” as I chose to go back to “school” in a totally new field (chaplaincy) 39 years after my last degree. 

Our conclusion? We/People are never too old to start again. 

What do you think?

When you reflect on your life, with the focus of stepping into new endeavors, big or small, what has been your journey?

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what has shaped me—intentionally/of my choosing, by circumstance (friends moving away, deaths in the family, COVID, the economy, and more) and more serendipitously, (meeting new folks and developing new relationships). As I chart that path, my belief in our abilities to continuously develop turns to certainty. 

No doubt, I/we face limitations or constraints—personal and professional commitments, time, funds, capacity, and energy. And, while I am the gal who says, “Yes” probably a little too often, I make time for relaxation and fun.

Here’s a visual I created in 2020, about my professional journey. Gosh, there’s more to add since then! And, I have a parallel journey that includes my art and craft adventures and travel. Perhaps that’s a drawing in my future or an addition to this one… another thread (or two)  in the tapestry.

May I suggest that you make time right now, for just a few minutes, to recognize and celebrate your adventures over the year in your professional and personal development…

I’d love to learn what you have taken up a bit later in life.

How have you surprised yourself with your energy and desire

to continue to learn and develop?

Maybe you will even consider what the future might hold. I hope you will be in touch to share your reflections.

 

* illustrators for Drawify. Drawify is a platform offering over 10,000 hand-drawn illustrations from artists worldwide. If you’d like to learn more about using our work for telling your stories visually, grab a spot on my calendar and we can explore together, or venture out on your own with this coupon for two months of free Hero-level access to the site (no strings attached), and contact me with your questions. 

All materials copyright ©2019 Jill Greenbaum, Ed.D. All rights reserved.