marriage

Rainbow Soul and Tears – Storms in Life – Timed Writing Prompts

by Sheila Finkelstein on November 11, 2015

“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 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 thunderstorm. 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 entrepreneurship, despite constant pain and broken bones, Laurel Burch sadly passed away (2 months and 8 days before Sam’s death) on Sept. 13, 2007 at the age of 61.

See her spirit and process in a 6-minute VIDEO interview with her. You can also read about her life in The New York Times – Obituary – Sept. 20, 2007.

NOTE: The two Laurel Burch mugs shown here are long longer available. You can find other beautiful ones on LAUREL BURCH MUGS on AMAZON .

First published on Sept 1, 2009. Updated December 7, 2019

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Writing Prompt – Blessings in Front of Me

by Sheila Finkelstein on September 24, 2010

I had a full “plate” of classes and “to-dos” today and once again I got a nudge at 11:30 AM to finish the call I was on and drop in on Julie Jordan Scott’s WRITING CAMP. From my experience of being in the spaces that Julie creates, I know something is bound to open up for me. I my not always know what it is or will be and I was surprised today to find that memories of Sam flowed from my, interestingly, red pen. Was the “red” for my heart?

The prompt “Blessings in front of my right now“; the floor and the tiles that take me anywhere I want to go in my house: to the riches or the distractions; to 3 carpeted rooms, two of which house my MacIntosh computers; the other my bed for rest and memories of Sam, of being held closely, tightly, lovingly and being gently caressed on the flesh of my abdomen when I lay on my back.

I hated this. It brought my attention and awareness to what I felt was an excess of fat, more pronounced, for me, with his caresses. I always stopped him, removed his hand; never thought to ask what pleasure he derived from this. Too late now.

My writing continued, given there was more time before the timer had Julie state, “Complete your thought and end for now.” I continued writing about the pot in front of me, in the center of the floor, remaining from a fire ritual I did last night, celebrating the Fall Equinox. And that story is unimportant here.

Suffice it to say, “Life does go on and we can continue to find richness and blessings if we put ourselves out in communities which support us.” Thank you, Julie.

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Valentine’s Day – Sadness, Taking Action, Counting Blessings

by Sheila Finkelstein on February 14, 2010

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.

Writing with feet in Sam's Lap 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.”

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Dreams and Visions from September 2005

by Sheila Finkelstein on December 11, 2009

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.

Sam Finkelstein blows kisses
Sam Finkelstein Blowing Kisses at the Surprise 45th Wedding Anniversary Party given for us by our sons and their families – 8/27/05

DREAMS for Dream Activation Witnessing – September 14, 2005

I came into this Dream Activation program after it started, stating that I do not really have dreams, at least not any that I can put my fingers on/around.

Last night, I read the statement On VISION, in ATTITUDE OF GRATITUDE (p. 14) by Keith Harrell. He speaks of it, stating that “A vision can’t fail if you do the right thing.” He goes on to say, “The most critical first step is understanding your purpose in life and developing a personal vision. A personal vision consists of knowing what you want to do, for whom, and for what purpose.”

I’m thinking that I was equating Dreams with Vision and I have not specifically defined what I want to do for whom and for what purpose.

In order to prepare for my share today, I needed to write about my husband and create a clearing. So two nights ago I wrote and then, in Julie’s Special Writing Program yesterday which I’ve also just joined, the second part of what’s up for me seemed to fall in place.

To lay the foundation, I want to share what I first wrote. Sam, my beloved husband, was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease 8 1/2 years ago and in the past year, communication, getting his thoughts out, has become quite difficult at times and we’ve had some other intermittent challenges. And so I wrote –

DREAMING

I dream of things that can never be, or no longer be. I dream of Sam and I being able to travel, to take the cruises he desires, to walk the beaches with him at my side. I dream of our having extended conversations, many of which we never had.

I dream of being sweet, loving and compassionate with him, not the ranting bitch that emerges from time to time…sometimes frequent times.

I dream of his initiating, generating, and my being able to lean on him, depend on him, though I’d protest it along the way.

I dream of people helping him, engaging him, enlivening him…things that I have no patience for. I dream of letting go of resentment and forgiving myself for not spending more AND quality time with him.

I notice I keep saying “him.” My mother used to hate when I, or anyone, referred to her as “her.” “Him” is Sam, my beloved, who has put up with so much with me, always putting me first before himself, or anyone else.

Though he often protested, at least initially, on things I started, new and innovative, he ultimately was always there for me, supporting me. And with it all, bottom line, in whatever way, I am always there for him.

If I’d see myself through Sam’s eyes I’d be quite accomplished, tackling huge projects, as yet unknown and undefined.

Right now I dream of peace and ease, of having it all – luxury unlimited, money and resources, all without having to put out much effort.

I dream of communities of people interacting purposefully and with love.

I dream of people making discoveries and being excited by what they do.

I dream of having, being in a close knit community, with friends who energize and excite me and themselves.

I dream of books not yet written, 2 at least, though I know not what they are.

I dream of being famous, for what I do not know.

I dream of connections – people being connected for whatever they need.

I dream of a clutter-free environment, of a staff to tend to all of our needs – cooking, cleaning, organizing.

At one point I dreamed of watching sunrise over the ocean, while lying in bed, opening the drapes with a remote control. That dream also had woods and streams in the back of the house where we could see sunset and workshops for an artists’, actually corporate workers’, retreat. The latter is no longer part of my dream. Is it resignation or simply that I’ve moved in different directions?

And so my writing concluded the other night and I thought I’d search through my writings in my Picture to Ponder almost-daily ezine (now weekly) to find the points I seem to emphasize and thus get a handle on where I’m standing.

Then I experienced more free flow writing, with Julie yesterday.

The final prompt for the session was THE GIFT I GIVE TO MY READERS IS. . .and I wrote,

“The gift I give my readers is the opportunity for them to discover the richness in their worlds, the beauty of what’s in their physical spaces, the visions they have, perhaps as-yet unknown, in their souls…

the words, the tools, the ways of interconnecting to their selves and to each other, the people in their lives whom they’ve met and not yet met.

The gift I give to my readers is the beauty of knowing and believing in themselves.

And, I’m reminded that in “mission statements” for jobs in varying fields was always some form of supporting/empowering people in believing and themselves.

It’s who I be in my actions. Is it a Vision? A dream? I don’t know.”

Note for those new to this blog – My beloved Sam passed away on 11/21/07, see REMEMBERING SAM, and as I put this together on 1/7/09 I am struggling with what new dreams I can create. The dreams listed after those I had of life with Sam certainly can act as inspiration for me, they are and came from someplace within as did THE GIFT I GIVE MY READERS as spelled out above.

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Finding Direction Using Writing and Photography – NaBloPoMo Day 15

by Sheila Finkelstein on August 2, 2009

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.

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Words Bite – Do the Feelings Remain? NaBloPoMo Day 14

by Sheila Finkelstein on August 2, 2009

“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.

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Timed Writing from Quotes – Light in the Darkness – Mourning – NaBloPoMo Day 7

by Sheila Finkelstein on July 25, 2009

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 )

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Music for Openings Sparks Writing – NaBloPoMo Day 4

by Sheila Finkelstein on July 22, 2009

Earlier this week, I was on an empowering teleclass, “Catch the Breeze – Radical Weight Loss from the Inside out” led by Marcia Breitenbach, The Songletter Lady and Transformation Specialist. The call was about “energy” and “releasing” and during it she spoke of music as access to unlocking areas of our brain, opening up energy blocks . She spoke of how music is being used with people afflicted with Parkinson’s Disease and others with Alzheimers.

I immediately started feeling sad and teary. Then I got absorbed in other segments of the call and was able to let those feelings go. The next day I was once again filled with guilt, sadness and remorse, for I had been aware of the impact of music and in the day-to-day living, where music was not an integral part Sam’s and my life, I had forgotten about it.

What made it “worse” as I remembered, was that a friend had composed an upbeat song which she sang as she played her ukulele. She gave us a copy of her rough recording. We both enjoyed it, especially Sam, and then as time went on I forgot about it and the power of the music. Because of the effects of Parkinson’s Disease, Sam was not likely to remember, himself, to generate such conversations and reminders.

Once again, I am faced with “There are no do-overs”. As I write the “story” of it, I am able to do more releasing. At the same time I am healing and reminding myself of the “good” things I did as a caregiver, the walks we had, the things we enjoyed. I can also remind myself that sharing like this can empower others and I know that Sam, also, would have appreciated that. People mattered greatly to him also.

During the same teleclass, Marcia suggested we take on being with our challenges as “allies”, rather than enemies. Thus, “Sadness is my ally.” “Grief is my ally.” “Tears are my ally.” They are some of the components of my life, my “friends” who encourage me to write and put myself out to share and make a difference with others.

To learn more about Marcia’s work, I invite you to visit her site, The Magnificent You. You can get the words for and listen to the Magnificent You song at Songletter. This page also includes explanations on “Music Creating New Software in the Brain” and more.

Note: For those interested in doing more exploration in writing for yourself, my friend and mentor Julie Jordan Scott is Introducing the Summer Writing Intensive Creativity Camp (at Home or wherever you happen to be) See Summer Writing Camp for details.

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A Love Note after Healing, Releasing Ritual

by Sheila Finkelstein on May 10, 2009

: Sheila deep in thought – Early 1960s Photo by Sam Finkelstein

Your body it comforted me.
Your arms were strong;
Your heart was even bigger.
It filled all spaces with love.
It filled me with love and
Gave me space to practice
To learn, to grow.

Ultimately you gave me the space for all of that and more.

I nurtured you on many levels and in some I may have held you back. Who knows?

You were a leader and initiator in your own right – Fatherhood, Scouts, B’nai B’rith, Synagogue, Ohr Bits, newsletter for four years and so much more of which I was not aware, because I never asked.

This is one of my biggest regrets. There is/was so much more that I could have learned about you/from you and what does that all mean now?

More knowledge?
More history?
Did I appreciate you enough?

Obviously from what you wrote, what I read, in notes to me, you felt fully fulfilled and loved.

Ina said your purpose in this life was to support and honor me.
It is thus my responsibility now, my privilege, to soar higher and higher in your name.

You are now unchained. I am no longer holding you here. Periodically I’ll see signs of you. A gardenia, a bird perhaps, who knows what else and if Hedy (Army girlfriend in Germany) is there I’ll smile for you… be glad that you have another to now fulfill your desire to appreciate and love and be appreciated and loved.

I loved, and love you, so much, my Darling. Through you my world and the world I/we live in is a better place.

All my love, Eternally,

Your precious Sheila
(Though not a “precious” is not a “pet” name you used, I know that’s what I was for you, the “jewel” in your life.)

Note: – This was written toward the end of a three-day Healing/Releasing experience, as suggested by Amethyst Wyldfire I offer it here should what I wrote make a difference for someone else going through a healing process of losing a spouse or loved one. Sam has been gone two weeks less than 18 months, as I write these words.

The photograph is one that especially appealed to me yesterday as I was going through a book of beautiful portraits that Sam took of me in the first years of our marriage, in the early sixties. You can see more of Sam’s Black and White photography on B&W Photos.

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Last Memories

by Sheila Finkelstein on April 25, 2009

I walked back into his hospital room after a satisfying lunch. He was sitting straight in a big armchair, body slightly propped with a pillow. A table cart was in front of him. As I walked toward him a bright smile appeared and lit his face.

I sat across from him, told him about my outing and asked about his. He probably struggled with some words. I don’t remember. What I do remember is playing with the ball, the spongey one with hundreds of inch long extensions encompassing it all.

ball-green-350-img_7612

We rolled it back and forth
Tossed it too and
Played a little catch.

Some exercise for him.
Calming for me.

Relaxation and contentment,
Precious moments, so few remained
Though we knew that not.

I think I crawled into his bed for a bit, while he was able to sit in the chair. I was exhausted and craved a bit of rest. We changed places a short time later and that was the last time he was in a chair.

Eleven days later I crawled back into his bed. This time he was in it also. I curved my body against his back and buttocks. Under the sheet, arms hugging and hands caressing. Only moments remained. A couple deep, harsh and gasping breaths. Then he was gone.

And, now, fifteen months later, I play alone with a spongy yellow ball, one of the several we sporadically used, at home. The blue one used in the hospital is someplace amidst my bags, I think. We had a magenta one too, my favorite.

Flattened Yellow spongey ball

I sit here and pull, stretching, the individual pieces. They bounce back like a rubber band. There is a loop and sometimes we put that on our fingers and gently bounced the ball, an inch or two away from us.

Reminded me of a yo-yo. Only the yo-yo goes almost to the floor and rolls up again, when done with skill, back into the waiting hand. This one doesn’t go far. It fills the whole hand as it returns. Solidly soft it is.

The hollow inside has lost some air, I’d say. No longer in use now, a portion of it flattens out. Though I can pull it out to a full sphere, it’s only temporary. It quickly goes back to flat, supporting a now three-quarter sphere when put to rest on the table.

Flattened blue spongey ball

A symbol of my life it is. Flatness, circular, a multitude of stretchy pieces, possibilities of playfulness. Open to manipulation, it resumes its shape when left alone.

Resilient always. He’s gone. I’m here.

(Note: My beloved husband, Sam Finkelstein, died on November 21, 2007. We were married for 47+ years. He had Parkinson’s Disease for 11 years and out of nowhere contracted a bacterial infection in his blood which ended up playing all kinds of havoc with is body. For more on this wonderful man and for links to his extraordinary black and white photography, see REMEMBERING SAM.)

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