There are days where I feel all up in the air and discombobulated to the point of complete annoyance. I can meditate, remind, and reawaken myself to all the things I could do to create a stronger sense of peace and contentment with my “now”.
Today, I made french toast.
It was delicious.
xox
I am always moving in the right direction.
Joy used to sound like such an over-the-top kind of word that rarely described anyone, except maybe kids around the Holidays, or when you find the last pair of jeans in your size that are exactly what you were looking for and don’t cost a fortune, in fact there’s a sale on them, etc.
I understand joy differently now.
During my NDE, I experienced the joy that we are at our core being. That was joy. Blissful, unadulterated, unfiltered joy.
In my life since my experience, joy has mostly been an elusive thing for me. Over the years I’ve come to really understand it, and how I can experience it in my daily life. It’s not been about the acquisition of things, or promotions or more money. It’s about connection, and compassion. It’s about acceptance, and most of all, Love in all its forms.
I wish you true Joy today 🙂
xoxo
Yesterday, I walked a crowded beach, digging my toes into the soft white sand as I made my way past the clusters of sun-worshippers. I hadn’t been on this particularly beautiful beach for (I’m embarrassed to admit) years. I live only 20 minutes away, but have allowed my thoughts come between me and my true nature. The ocean, the sand, the sun, are all me, and I them. They have remained ever-present, a constant stream of the energy of the universe, while I distanced myself, preoccupied with thoughts about other things that separated me from this beauty right in my backyard.
I relinquished those thoughts and chose, instead, to connect with my self through the beauty of divine nature. It revived and realigned me with who I am. Today, on this Sunday morning, I am feeling connected and peaceful. Approaching my world from this place allows me to be of better service to those around me, because I have first nurtured my self.
I wish all of you a peaceful Sunday morning.
xox
We all have our stories.
A Holiday dinner was spent with the usual relatives, and a nice older couple I hadn’t met before. He was a retired Physicist who worked on weapon systems development somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, and she a retired Dean of a large university. They’d traveled the world together over the years both before and after retirement, and were now living in the south enjoying the fruits of their labor.
“Anne” had a mohawk. It was subtle, as her hair was light and short already, but I noted this right away, and thought it was pretty cool. Maybe she was a progressive, intellectual type? She spoke slowly, and sometimes relied on her husband “Tom” to fill in the blanks. Her speech was a little slurred, but the words carefully chosen and her delivery tinged with humor.
As we spoke, Anne and Tom revealed she’d undergone brain surgery for treatment of Parkinson’s Disease. The shaking had gotten so bad, she couldn’t function. Medications had helped up to a point, but the side effects were unbearable. She’d gone to Cleveland Clinic and had electrodes implanted which would stimulate specific parts of the brain to help slow the tremors down. The problem was, in the meantime, she couldn’t think very clearly and was getting regular headaches.
We talked over dinner about their many travels, and I marveled at how truly articulate she was, despite her impairment. She made us all laugh. A lot.
Anne expressed frustration over her lack of mental acuity, one she was so used to having. I knew how she felt. Following my own brain injury, I continue to have cognitive problems and if I linger on the thoughts of what I used to be like, it drives me crazy.
When I told Anne this after dinner, she looked at me with such relief. I’m doing so much better now, and this gave her hope, she said.
Now, when I think of what I used to be like and how that person is gone, I also think of Anne and the many others who suffer from some sort of cognitive impairment and how I am not, nor am I ever, alone.
Krista Gorman, PA-C
