One Year Later

After providing care for her in our home for five years, my mother passed from this life on May 19, 2012. On the first anniversary of her passing, I am aware that my journey of grief has passed through many different experiences, memories, and sensations. The feelings of sadness for my loss, relief that she is no longer in pain, wonderment of what more could have been done to comfort her, and anguish that she is no longer part of my life as she once was have marked this past year. I am also aware that these dimensions of grief will continue, albeit in less frequent waves of emotion.

Today, I consider myself to be very fortunate to have had a wise, caring, and gracious mother. Dorothy was a strong and determined woman who repeatedly demonstrated forbearance. She was kind, able to put others at ease, and demonstrated remarkable skill as a conversationalist.

When another family member had become frustrated with a series of life events, she penned her philosophy of life and asked that I lay it out “on the computer to make it look nice.” Without her realizing it, she left great wisdom that has touched others who have read it. In Dorothy’s memory, I share her wisdom for living with you.

Life’s Recipe

1. Be thankful.

2. You do no have the power for controlling life’s situations.

3. You may be able to help – at times.

4. Be the best you can be.

5. Do not judge.

6. Think of all who may be hurting.

7. You are blessed. Now smile!

Dorothy Kavar
August 7, 2004

© 2013, emerging by Lou Kavar, Ph.D.. All rights reserved.

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Holding Onto Life

The emotions caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting them, particularly during a meditation class. I had no realization this was something about which I felt so deeply.

I sat with forty or fifty others in the Buddhist meditation hall. The leader guided us in meditation to consider the ways we are attached to things that bring us suffering. As he spoke, we were reminded of ways that people value wealth and possessions, power and influence, or position and reputation. As he went through the list, I thought about the ways I value having nice things and receiving respect from others. He reminded us that all things we’re attached to will pass from our lives. One day, they will all be gone. If our happiness is based on them, what becomes of our happiness?

That’s when an overwhelming sadness welled up within me. Tears began to stream down my face. My emotional response had nothing to do with my worldly possessions, accomplishments, or the esteem of others. Instead, the awareness came to me that one day I would lose what I valued so much: my relationship with a spouse, my companion and friend.

The truth is that I’m not much bothered by my own death. I recognize that life has been very good to me. But for ten years, I’ve shared my life with another. I simply don’t want it to ever end. Recognizing that I am the older person, I know that I am likely to die first. The thought of leaving my beloved and not seeing life continue to unfold was simply overwhelming.

During the break between sessions, I spoke with one of the other participants. She noticed I had a strong reaction to the meditation. As I tried to put words around my experience, she said that she too was struck by her mortality – even though the leader never drew us to consider that our lives would end.

Over the last few days I’ve sat with these feelings. I’ve tried to understand them, particularly in light of the Buddhist teaching of impermanence. It’s a simple lesson found in other great spiritual traditions. Every thing is always in a state of flux. Every thing that exists is changing. What is today will be different tomorrow. When we try to hold onto what is now, we are only left with frustration because it will change. That’s the nature of the lives we lead.

We are impermanent. We are here today but will be gone on some tomorrow. We can’t know for sure what lies ahead of us. We do not know whether our time as human beings will be long or short. Because of this essential truth of human existence, our happiness and fulfillment are only real when we live in a way that affirms the present moment within the context of our transitory lives.

Of course, it is inevitable that the things we cherish now will one day fade away. We ourselves will also fade from life as we know it. No matter what deep convictions we may hold about life after this life, we can’t know for certain what is to come. What I know for certain is that the happiness I find today as a partner in a relationship will inevitably come to an end.

I’ll admit: I haven’t come to full acceptance of this limitation. But I’m finding some consolation in something that another friend once said to me in a very different context.

About twenty years ago, one of my long-time friends got caught up in drugs. At some point, we had a serious conversation and I asked him why. He said, “I want to experience everything there is to experience.” As he was hitting bottom, I took him for a weekend trip in Northern California. There, he had the opportunity to climb rocky shores, watch whales in the distance, and walk among redwood trees. I told him that this was part of my version of experiencing everything there is to experience.

Now, in a very different context, I am renewing this affirmation. I want to experience everything I can. That will include one day passing from this life to something I really can’t know. It will be the experience of leaving behind everything and everyone behind that I have come to cherish. But just as I have come to understand life as profoundly good, I trust that I will discover a goodness in my own impermanence – a goodness I can’t begin to understand today.

Indeed, all of life – and our lives, in particular – continue to change. Nothing stays the same. It’s all impermanent. By affirming this aspect of the nature of all things, we have the opportunity to appreciate and experience gratitude for everything we experience in this present moment.

© 2013, emerging by Lou Kavar, Ph.D.. All rights reserved.

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Caring Too Much?

It’s called compassion fatigue. It’s a condition involving physical, psychological, and spiritual symptoms. It’s sometimes described as a gradual lessening of compassion. It happens to care givers, both those in the helping professions as well as those who have a primary role caring for loved ones. It happens when an individual cares for others, day in and day out, without taking time to care for self.

Compassion fatigue is also known as burn-out. It’s the experience of exhaustion, of not being able to engage in one’s normal responsibilities, along with feelings of emptiness. Compassion fatigue is also known as Secondary Traumatic Stress. This is when someone has been with a number of people who have experienced traumatic incidence stress (like a natural disaster or gun related violence) and the stress of other people’s trauma becomes one’s own.

Compassion fatigue has a positive sound to it. It seems almost noble. It’s a term that suggests, “Oh, she is such a caring person that she gave too much. It took a toll on her.” Or, “he’s such a compassionate person that he gave it all to others.” From this perspective, it seems as though compassion fatigue is experienced by generous people who care more for others than they do for themselves. Framing compassion fatigue in this way makes it seem like it’s something for which we should strive: to give until it hurts.

I want to suggest that this thing called compassion fatigue really isn’t about compassion. It’s essentially about living in an imbalanced way. And, yes: I should know because I’ve been there.

The word compassion is taken from that Latin roots meaning to suffer with, or to feel deeply with another. Fundamentally, compassion is connected with empathy. Empathy is the experience of being able to recognize, understand, relate to, or in some way share the experience of another. When a person experiences empathy for others, the person enters the experience of others. At the same time, essential to compassion and empathy is the ability to feel, to recognize one’s own feelings, and to understand one’s own emotional processes.

Compassion fatigue occurs when someone isn’t able to recognize and respond to one’s own feelings and emotional processes. Compassion fatigue ignores, suppresses, or discounts one’s own experience and identifies with the other to the detriment of self. Compassion fatigue is a devaluing of self and, in many cases, an attempt to find something of value for oneself in another person’s experience.

Essentially, what’s commonly called compassion fatigue isn’t about caring too much. Instead, it’s about not caring properly. A person is at risk for compassion fatigue when there is a lack of care and compassion for self.

Making sure that one gets sufficient rest, eats properly, exercises, and tends to interior needs, both psychological and spiritual, isn’t about being selfish. Instead, self compassion and basic care of the self means that one recognizes who she or he truly is as a human being. When basic care for self is not provided, we ultimately become a burden to others because we have left ourselves in a weak and vulnerable state.

A time when I experienced this thing called compassion fatigue was over the years I was the founder of a new congregation. Because my denomination didn’t have money available to support this venture, I chose to work full-time while also organizing a new congregation. I maintained my job responsibilities pretty well and, after four years, the congregation had over 120 people at Sunday services. It was a success all around, but I was a failure. I was weary, rigid, with little ability to feel, and frustrated by the smallest things. It took a few years to recover from the experience. My recovery was marked by very intentional time in prayer and meditation as well as more balanced living. My book, Stumbling Into Life’s Lessons, contains several essays on the process I undertook to restore balance to my life.

A number of years later, another experience could have led to compassion fatigue. For a five year period, I was the primary caregiver for my elderly mother who was blind and arthritic. She came to live with us over the years before her death. While the experience was much like being on-call all day every day, the lessons I learned about my need for spiritual grounding, exercise, and compassion for myself enabled me to be present for the long-haul of caring for another.

In the end, I’ve come to understand that compassion fatigue really isn’t about caring too much for others. It’s actually the problem of not being compassionate toward oneself. To tell the truth: I don’t think one can ever care too much about others. Instead, the problem is that we often don’t care in balanced ways for ourselves. No matter the needs of others, our ability to respond to them with compassion begins with the compassion we show to ourselves.

© 2013, emerging by Lou Kavar, Ph.D.. All rights reserved.

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