Today is Valentine’s Day and all around it seems people are acknowledging the “heart” day… Subject lines in emails, Twitter posts, probably on Facebook also.

My friend Marifran Korb has written some wonderful posts on Celebrating Valentine’s Day, including most importantly celebrating ourselves.  She wrote: “Make a commitment to fall in love over and over again with YOURSELF. Love is a commitment, not a feeling.” Valentine’s Day, Part 3, with lots of great ideas.  AND, I wanted NO part of any of it!

Sam and I never much celebrated Valentine’s Day as a holiday.  I’d like to think we celebrated our love daily. Despite this, on the subconscious level, I think, sadness had been setting in as I was reading tags and posts.

I’m here now at my computer with sporadic tears welling in my eyes, some  passing down over my cheeks.   It’s more than two years since my beloved Sam has left this Earth and, though my life is full, sometimes it seems even lonelier than it was  in the days and year after he died. (Why is it so hard to say that word – “die?”)

So how do we handle the tears, the sadness.  “Write,” I say. And, unintentionally I did.  A young mother in the Conscious Business Owners coaching group of which I am a part, was querying her wanting to be with her young sons, concerned that her business would pull her away from that which was most important to her.

One of the other group members wrote: “For me personally, I think my resentment of not having outside contact would have been somehow translated into our relationships in a negative way. So find a balance that will work for you but remember there is another child who has needs–you.”

That sparked me to write my own response (see end of this post) and though the tears started welling up even more, I found I was in action… My number one RX for healing… or easing the moments.

1.  After I wrote the email, I decided it would make a good blog post and possibly turn into a podcast for the Become a Blogging Maniac course in which I am a participant.

2.  Reflecting on one of the things missing in the moment, I saw “family closeness”, so I called my son who lives 1/2 hour from me. Upon hearing my sadness he invited me to visit and my “daughter-in-love”, immediately got on the phone and compassionately said, “Come to dinner.” (Thank you twitter friend Mary Morris, marylmorris, for introducing me to the concept/phraseology of “daughters-in-love.” I have two.)

As I take each of these steps and more, I am grateful for the past and present blessings in my life.

If you are someone who is grieving the absence of a loved one, I invite you to also be in action with whatever will best occupy and forward you.  Be sure to look for that in your life for which you can be thankful.

And, if you are someone who is blessed to currently have everyone important to you in your life alive and well, I invite you to stop to make note of the memories you can add to your Treasure Chest of life and acknowledge them now.  One of my blessings is that I have so many beautiful messages Sam wrote to me.

Speaking of writing, I’m moved to include a treasured photographic memory, that brings back the warmth and comfort of our relationship.

Smiling at the memory – See PICTURE TO PONDER – Issue 108 for the story.

From my EMAIL REPLY (see explanation above) that triggered this post:

“For me, M, your response to S was ‘right on’.  I’m reminded of the times I used to say guiltily (those little self-sabotaging demons kicking in) that I wasn’t the “Milk and Cookies” Mom AND my sons turned out great!!! They are wonderful husbands, in marriages that are each loving and stable, and fathers to  4 wonderful, bright, loving children.

When my sons were very young, I was quite involved with numerous volunteer activities and  then went back to college, finishing two years in an art education program.  I would often take my boys to one of the studios when I went up for extra work.  I still have etchings (real ones on metal plates) that they did  when they were 5 and 8.

I recall my younger son complaining, when he wanted to throw some “guilt” at me, about the times he’d have to come home to make
his own lunch so he could run back to school to play kickball. (Doesn’t sound too tragic, does it, given he’s mentioning the “play” part also?)

Whenever guilt would kick in for me over the years, I would remind myself, and continue to do so, how well my/our sons turned out -
a tribute, I say, to the ultimate love and security that was in our home, with two loving parents who were comfortable in their own
skin (usually) with what they were doing for self-fulfillment, as well as familial fulfillment.

S, it certainly sounds like you have your husband behind and with you. THAT is the MOST IMPORTANT thing that your sons will
see.  In addition to all the love they are and will be getting, they will have the experience of two adults being true to themselves.

I am deeply missing my husband, and those years long gone, as I complete writing this.  And, I am grateful for the blessing Sam’s and my life was  together  and for the next-generation two loving families that we seeded.

Treasure these years, S, remembering to treasure yourself and your needs also.”

I just came across this on one of my sites and thought it belonged here… one of those teary moments and some of the writing might have been healing then.  The reading and remembering is now part of the healing process.

9/14/05 – I have participated in many very powerful programs with Julie Jordan Scott.  Currently I am in Julie’s Dream Activation Program, see DREAMS and in a writing program of hers.  Part of the 42 days of Dream Activation is sharing one’s dreams and having them witnessed.  Today I shared my expression around my dreams.

“The soul would have no rainbows if the eyes had no tears.” Laurel Burch

This quote is on a mug that I purchased from Amazon shortly after Sam died. During those first few difficult months, I gave myself permission to buy little, what for me were, “luxury items” as comforts for my soul, I suppose.

I do have have several Laurel Burch mugs and hadn’t seen them since we moved here. The beauty of the image on this one initially drew me in and, even more importantly for me, the writing in the center of the mug was a reminder of tears… that tears are ok. Only I wasn’t doing much crying, permission or not. So that’s the story behind my having introduced the quote to our [writing] group today..

“Rainbows, I’m forever chasing,” I stated the other day when I went chasing a beautiful rainbow (to photograph) after a violent thunder storm. It seems to me that perhaps the most beautiful rainbows come after turbulent storms rather than gentle rains.

Does my soul , thus, need turbulence to have rainbows in it? Does it need to have the tears to create whatever combination creates a rainbow? Beautiful colors? Shapes? Purity?

(and the 4 minute timer called the end….Interestingly, for me, the next prompt somewhat continued the “conversation.”)

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass… It’s about learning to stand in the rain.” - Anonymous

This one brings up immediate memories… tearful ones now…of the hurricane of a couple of years ago. I recently came across photos of Sam sitting in my closet… me, too, when I got back in to join him after taking the photo. Close and secure, the two of us, as we waited for the hurricane and its threats to pass over.

Though we weren’t physically standing in the rain we were going with it, no protest, simply enjoying being with one another and whatever was going on… at least I’d like to think there was no fear there.

The effects of that hurricane left us powerless… in electricity that is.. for several days. And we got to appreciate being in the present. Instead of complaining I treasured the time for reading, resting, eating gooshy strawberries that had defrosted and were still cold when I took them out of the cooler.

How glad I was to have Sam with me, my companion, my lover, and, I guess,we were learning to stand in the rain of our lives over several years… the rain being the effects of Parkinson’s disease on him and, thus, us.

PS – For cheer when I bought the Rainbow Soul mug I also bought Laurel Burch’s Ponies and Parrots mug from Amazon -Final note on this post – Having created a miraculous life of beauty and love with her art and color and entrepeneurship, despite constant pain and broken bones, Laurel Burch sadly passed away at the age of 61. See her spirit and process in a 6-minute VIDEO interview. You can also read about her life on the same SITE.

Two weeks ago, I decided to sign up for NaBloPoMo, National Blog Posting Month (can start any time) and made an agreement, mainly with myself, to do a blog post daily for 30 days. I decided to do this as a way of creating a structure and some self-discipline for myself.

Right now, I have two somewhat active blogs. Since I had not been posting much on Writing for Healing, I thought this challenge would be way to build it. The challenge I’m finding is that I do not have a set intention, other than to post. When I set up the blog, I thought it would be a good idea to reach, particularly caregivers, actually anyone who is mourning a loss. Mourning a loss does not necessarily mean there has to be a physical “death”, though I guess there is some form of “dying” off of something that had been a certain way, “lived” a certain way.

I would often say to my husband, as we lay in bed at night, “I miss you.” In retrospect this, I’m sure, was not the kindest thing to say to him, since I’m sure he missed himself, his “normalcy” and what we were able to do in the past. There wasn’t anything he, or I, could do about it. At those times I was, particularly, missing his ability to communicate freely and to easily roll over in bed and hold me in the way he had for 40 plus years.

As I’ve mentioned in earlier posts, the biggest toll Parkinson’s Disease took on Sam was his ability to vocalize the words that were right there in his head. Also though he fortunately was able to walk easily, he did have some rigidity in freedom of motion in other positions.

My wandering here today is an example of writing without a specific intention… or perhaps many. Back to my original underlying purpose of this blog, supporting others in finding their healing processes through writing. When I think of that, I’m left with the questions, “Should I be telling? Teaching? Simply sharing writing?” I started to take the “easy” way and share writings I had already done.

Today, I had the thought, “Why am I focussing here, when the thing I most love is taking photographs?” Thus I’m taking on posting a photo daily on Photography and Transformation.com. Today’s post is a Weathered Wall, which might well inspire writing and perhaps healing writing, I thus invite you to visit a Weathered Wall – Photography for Meditation.

You might experience the riches of nature in addition to mourning the passing of what might have been before.

“They may forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel.” Carl W. Buechner

Once again, Sam comes up. I hope he forgot what I said and forgot how I made him feel in the moment.  When I screamed and yelled and cursed, he hated the “f” word. He felt like “sh” I know.  Sometimes he said it.  So the feeling was there.  And, thankfully, I think he did forget how I made him feel in those moments or he wouldn’t have been able to put up with it.

I’ll rest in peace and he is too, I’m sure, knowing that most of the feelings he would never forget are those of being loved and cherished, as was I, most of our times together,  throughout our 47 1/2 years of marriage.

If we worry about everything we say, it can be very stifling. On the other hand, a good practice always is to think before we speak.  Though we may not think about the feelings, if we ask ourselves, “Will this make a difference?”,  it  will, obviously, have an effect on feelings.

4 minute writing – 10/21/08 – eleven months after Sam’s death. – What had surfaced in response to that quote were the memories of my anger. When I was in the midst of them, unfortunately, nothing else mattered. And, I was truly blessed that Sam understood, and accepted, what was going on with me during those moments.

In earlier posts I’ve written how I have used Haiku,letters to the editor and writing from prompts, all as means to gain control over anger. Interestingly, though I am a visual artist, currently using my photography to inspire people to see things newly and in ways they’ve missed, when I am in the depths of a strong emotion, I immediately go to writing. Some of my most profound work has been written at such times.

When I taught Art in an elementary school, I worked from a cart, moving from classroom to classroom. My supplies and cart, when not in use, shared space in one of the school storage closets. Because I used a lot of different materials, my space in the closet was not always neat.

One day, on my way out to a graduate class, I passed the principal by the front entrance. I must have made some comment about the closet, for she stated, “A bomb can go off in your closet and no one would be any the worse for it!” I immediately became furious and ended up handling my rage by writing out at every red light on the way to my class. The following, turned out actually to be an expression of my life and still is what I stand for today.

I wrote:

ODE TO A PIECE OF CARDBOARD:
or, A Philosphy of Life

What’s a piece of cardboard?

It’s the base of a sculpture, or an
integral part of one.
It’s the support for an assemblage;
A cardboard loom for weaving.

It has form, or it is flat.
It’s a surface to work on–
To build a mask; to rest a tray as
plaster is poured;
To keep work safe, as it is moved from place to place.
It’s a support for the paper on which notes
are taken at a museum, on which observations
are drawn.

Skin it. See the corrugation.
Use it for line or texture in a collage.
Cut it with scissors.
Roll it.
Attach it.
Tape it. Glue it.
Build with it.
What more is it?

That is up to you.
You may make discoveries as yet unknown.
I am not the possessor of all knowledge,
all ideas.
I can be the source from which you can get help

to develop your own ideas, your
individuality, your uniqueness.

If I can, I will provide the materials that will
help you make your discoveries, to suggest
alternate possibilities if I can’t.
When you need it, I hope it is on hand.

All of my knowledge is available to you–
all of my expertise.

I hope that these experiences will help
you to use things frugally, with originality;
That sometimes when you are sparked
with an idea
You remember and are aware of potentials
and alternatives.

Pass a pebble, a rock, a shell, a leaf–
A new and different shape (real or in your mind)
Look at it. Touch it. Turn it over.
Return it to its home if you wish,
Or, let it send your mind and fingers flying
in a drawing or a painting.
Use it in a collage.

What’s a feather, a piece of cloth, a strange
shape, a can of nails, a box of scrap wood?

That’s up to you, my dear friend. . .
Up to you to collage your life a rich and vibrant one.

© 1977, 2002 Sheila Bakely Finkelstein

(Note – If you are wondering what happened insofar as the principal was concerned, I placed the typed poem on her desk the next morning before classes started. She never mentioned it to me AND she also never spoke to me about the closet.)

CONNECTION – “When I connect from my heart to my soul to you and to the paper, what I feel is:”

Peace and a way to move on.. move on from my thoughts, the jumble in my brain, perhaps the anxiety in my heart, in my body;

the tension which tightens across the birdge of my nose, clenches my teeth, tightens my jaw – all magically disappear;

I “know” all this. Why don’t I remember and move it out, let it flow freely, keep it going ongoingly?
(Starting quote is another from a course with Julie Jordan Scott, a few years ago. Above was written then, below now.)

The answer to freedom -
Remember the pen to the paper, the keys on the keyboard, tapping, bursting forth with symbols on my monitor. Therein are the connections, the openings.

“Where your power and the needs of the world cross, there lies your calling.” Aristotle

So many talents have I, my dilemma, my sticking point. “Where are the needs of the world that are wanting to be fulfilled by which of my talents?”

What comes up now, as I write, is “beauty”. “Everyone wants beauty,” so my friends tell me. I see “beauty in the ordinary”, “the extraordinary”, everywhere. And I suppose, when I start seeing that as an unfulfilled need for people, I can market accordingly and feel my power, my calling.

I hear my mastermind buddies yelling “yea”, as I write, for they tell me this all the time I think right now it’s simply that I’m suddenly seeing it a fraction differently, as a place where I can stand, from which I can come.

Interestingly in a way it all also fits with the Pollyanna in me. She, above Nancy Drew, was my favorite childhood heroine, or book anyway. Maybe Pollyanna precede Nancy in my age scale. Pollyanna’s talent for seeing the good in everything is what became, I think, an underlying pathway for me to live my life.

(And so, once more, timed writing from a prompt has given me an opening. Is that not what healing is about? Creating new openings?)

Timed writing (usually 4 minutes each from quotes) in my weekly writing group has been an important part of the healing process for me. The  healing I refer to today is that of mourning the loss of my beloved Sam (and still mourning 1 3/4 years later). In my commitment to post daily here, I will start sharing some of my Tuesday writings from released by the quotes suggested by group members.

I invite you to do your own timed responses, if you are so moved.

“Truly it is in the darkness that one finds the light, so when we are in sorrow then this light is nearest to us.” Meister Eckhardt

“Darkness” and “Light”.  I guess my deepest darkness is the passing of my beloved Sam.  How can there be light in that?  And yet the quote says “in the sorrow the light is nearest to me.”

So, my Beloved, were you nearer to me in those dark days of November, December, January?  Perhaps.  Though most of the time it showed up as pain.

Don’t know that I thought of particular darkness.  And, now, does this mean that as I move from sorrow to acceptance, though the “missing” is always there – that there will be no light for me, since the quote says “the light is nearest to us when we are in sorrow”?  Maybe the light is moving toward and into me.  Thus it’s an inner whole being thing, not an outer proximity.

You always will be with me, my Darling.  You were the light that lit me and moved my life.  Inside of me that will always remain and be.  (written 4/28/08 )

In previous posts here I’ve written about Haiku writing as a means of gaining control when angry and I’ve written about Morning Pages and free flow writing from prompts. There is also “letter writing”. Often simply the act of writing a letter expressing feelings, then tearing them up, never sending them is more than sufficient for healing.

This morning I was reminded that “Letters to the Editor” of our newspapers is also another access to freely expressing ourselves, powerfully so ,when there is a point rather than the act of simply “venting.”

Writing to my local newspaper was something I did quite frequently many years ago when I was involved in my community both in library organization and then when I was teaching art in the public schools in my town. Mostly they were to inform.

The particular letter I thought of today that’s the seed for this post was one I wrote during an election campaign for our local Board of Education, particularly volatile with one candidate who was president of the Board, or became president. I probably still have the letter, written more than 40 years ago.

One of the main phrases that I recall was my statement that “[he - the candidate] was doing nothing but throwing empty phrases to brew a burning cauldron of hostilities.”

During that same time period, I went back to college to get my degree in Fine Arts Education. Painting and Drawing was the first Art course I took. My professor, recently retired, had mostly criticism for whatever I produced. Toward the end of the semester she told me my “work lacked emotion” and I “should drop out of school and join a local guild to satisfy my housewifely ambitions!”

Anger flared and I immediately thought of the above-mentioned letter to the editor. “That was certainly FULL of emotion!” I went home grabbed a masonite board, a newspaper, paints, glue and match sticks and put together an assemblage – painting the fire and the cauldron, filling it with “hate” and other “anger” and “war” words cut from the newspaper, adding the matches to reinforce the fire.

I proceeded to bring it into the next class. I don’t recall what her response to it was. What I did realize years later was that, in fact, this piece did not convey the emotion of the feelings. What I had done was illustrate the seething emotions that had been behind the expressive words in the “letter to the editor”. Also, I still find it interesting that although I am known as a visual artist when it comes to expressing emotions I immediately go to words and writing. (The emotions expressed in my art, mainly my photography, come from a whole different, unidentified, subconscious level. )

Words in the Burning Cauldron of Hostilities

A close-up of the words, headlined in my newspapers in the late 60’s, used in the collage. I find it interesting observing now that the only word I cut up was “hate”, used three times.

In conclusion, several forms of self-expression were covered here. What is and are yours? If anything has opened up for you from my experiences described here, I’d love to read them in the comments here. Thank you.

(Note for those who may be curious about what happened insofar as “dropping out of school”: I did take the next semester off and then went back. I did not think one had to be a good or great artist to be an effective art teacher. Having stopped attending school board meetings, where I might be likely to speak out and ruffle feathers, I did get a job teaching art in the elementary school in my district where I taught for six years.

Thirty years later, an email from a former student attests to my having made the right decision! There were also many letters to the editor and School Board from parents and teachers when my teaching position was eliminated due to decline in enrollment.)