From conception to death we live transitionally. We gracefully modulate some transitions while during others we experience imponderables off key. At Adagio Lyrics we explore transitions together.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
NEOPHOBIC FAMILIES
The families of our Adagio residents have at times deserved negative names like dysfunctional, difficult, loud-and-obnoxious-without-filters, but are you familiar with "neophobic?"
Neo refers to new: "used with many nouns and adjectives to make nouns and adjectives describing things that exist in the present in a slightly different form from the way that they existed in the past."
A shorthand definition is "change." But our antennae curl like Danish sweet rolls at a hint of needed change. So we will sneak into our discussion with "neo." So chic.
At one time our oldest resident (94 years 2 months) who exhibited increasing weakness, plaintively asked me what was wrong with her. I held her hand and quietly suggested she was getting old, but in answer to her immediate question said she probably was not going to die tonight. To her three children each in their late 60's and 70's, their mother's observable deterioration was unwelcome, required immediate intervention and they even suggested a physical therapist could strengthen her with exercises. They reacted with full blown neophobia. Their insistent demands and hovering attention became upsetting. We needed to include their home health nurse in a discussion based on realistic medical facts.
Other families have visited our home looking at the possible need to move their mother. They were victimized by the prevalent notion that living independently is best. Their mother has been the bulwark for the family...and their tributes go on and on. We can hear that she has been a remarkable woman and her children rise up and call her "blessed." But her strength is failing and they could well be the death of her.
No one lives independently forever without aches and pains and medical intervention. But a few aged folk give the impression that they will be the exception to the rule. Until they wear out. Then a fall, a small stroke (TIA), or pneumonia caused by swallowing and laughing simultaneously signals change. And the weakness catches both the individual and the family by surprise.
Hopefully one of the children is healthy and comprehending enough to serve as DPOA and help their mother transition from independence to accepting care in an assisted living facility like our adult family home. Otherwise we shake our heads as the family in denial stalks back to their car, and we whisper sadly, "neophobia."
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
April is Poetry Appreciation Month
Every
human being is a poet whether or not we write down our thoughts, whether or not
anyone else cares.
Anyone
can hear poetry in the cry “I just washed that floor!”
A
child stomping out of the house in rage at his siblings, “Tell them they can
forget about me.”
A
dementia patient gazing in awe at towering cedars, “The sky is certainly full of clouds
low and legal. So many tall trees. The trees are so tall.”
“How long did it take
God to think up stars?”
Dylan Thomas
recognized the difficulties inherent in human relationships:
That
though I loved them for their faults
As
much as for their good,My friends were enemies on stilts
With their heads in a cunning cloud.
Here are a few universal
Lawrence Ferlinghetti titillating tidbits from his tiny book, Poetry As Insurgent Art:
Look for the permanent in the
evanescent and fleeting.
Be a canary in the coal mine. (A dead
canary is not just an ornithological problem.)
Poetry is the earth turning and
turning, with its humans everyday turning into light or darkness.
Be a poet this week
and sing yourself a song of living celebration.
Monday, April 15, 2013
SPRING INTO CHANGE
“It's
not so much that we're afraid of change or so in love with the old ways, but
it's that place in between that we fear... it's like being between trapezes.” ~
Marilyn Ferguson
Spring
is a wonderful season for new beginnings or modifications of the old.
Last
week we experienced a threatening gap between our caregivers’ shifts as we drove
into the driveway. We stressed with A. when she began work at Adagio that K. needed
to leave before the hour to make it down the hill in time to catch her bus 18
which comes any time between 2:58 and 3:10. Fear froze my brain and I jumped in
to the breech with a squawk and offended A. who came at 3:01—not exactly late.
To make a long story short, A. waited a day and then at a calm space in our
caregiving informed me that I had offended her.
Here
is the test: How would you respond?
a.
Freeze
her out and triangulate with my husband about that insensitive A.
b.
Respond
that she knew and she should have and she…she…she….
c.
Pause.
Review what happened and respond with appreciation that she told me I had
offended her. Apologize and hug.
If
you don’t know about triangulation, it is when A experiences a problem with B
and goes to C to complain about B. Now C has A’s problem on her hands and must
decide to choose sides, or…tell A to deal with it herself and she needs to talk to B
directly, and C doesn't want to hear anymore about it until A does.
If
you choose (b) you have an attitude problem and need to do some thinking about
your relationship with B. Are you in frequent contact with B? Is any of B’s
complaint your responsibility? Do you have problems with more people than B and
how often do you offend people? If the answer is that Spring brings all the
jerks out of the woodwork, hurt feelings aren’t seasonal.
This
time, I correctly chose (c) and expanded the base for communication between A
and myself. I also confessed to K. so that, even though she wasn’t directly
involved, I could further build her trust in me for the future when I step
on her toes. And I will. I’m not dead yet.
My
son sent me the Marilyn Ferguson quote. Any organizational system
experiences the heart-stopping moments of suspension between trapezes. And
organizations are composed of individuals who also swing in Spring breezes and other tornadic activity. Hugs
are wonderful, safe stops in the action. Give them often.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
April is Poetry Appreciation Month
Poetry
comes in formats other than books or magazines.
Amanda
Laughtland offers a delightful website with poems and her postcards and zines. http://teenytiny.org She prints tiny
books folded and sliced from a single standard sheet of computer paper that
present the reader with a cover and 7 pages. Her following poem would fit
perfectly on one of those pages.
On an Errand
I found the cupboard
far from bare
but lacking important
ingredients
for banana muffins:
wheat flour
and baking powder. So
I drove
to the grocery store,
pausing twice
at four-way stops and
once more
to look (no cars were
behind me)
at the tidy row of
crocuses,
purple and white,
beside the cemetery.
A
postcard serves as a tiny frame for a personal note of appreciation. In the
days of email we have forgotten this now unique method of communication.
Ted
Kooser was born in Ames, Iowa and sold life insurance in Nebraska for Lincoln
Benefit Life Company. He has published a book called Winter Morning Walks which consists entirely of poems he wrote to
fit on 100 postcards for his friend, poet Jim Harrison (post of April 6). Clear, delightful
observations of nature as the poet sees it.
timed to the ticking of downspouts.
The pond, still numb from months
of ice, reflects just one enthusiastic
this morning, a budding maple
whose every twig is strung with beads
of carved cinnabar, bittersweet red.
Snow
melting from the roof.
Spring,
the sky rippled with geese,
but
the green comes on slowly,timed to the ticking of downspouts.
The pond, still numb from months
of ice, reflects just one enthusiastic
this morning, a budding maple
whose every twig is strung with beads
of carved cinnabar, bittersweet red.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
SPRING 2013
April is Poetry
Appreciation Month.
We writers need
attention drawn to words written in poetic form more than mothers need Mother’s
Day. So poets get a month. It has been said by someone, probably a poet, that
the only people who buy poetry are other poets. Whereas the only people who do
not pay attention to Mother’s Day either no longer have one or experience some
reserve about their own mother. And florists, Hallmark, Macy’s advertise for
weeks attracting you to purchase a remembrance for your mother from their
supply. Where is their display of “send a card to your favorite poet”?
The“whys” for our
lack of appreciation for poetry are varied. Struggling in eighth grade English
class with poems that made no sense to a hormone-riddled mind may be one
explanation. In high school we were forced to memorize poetry which required
effort. There was no winging your way through the test. You either had done the
repetitive work or not.
Partially
the fault lies with poets who become so entangled in their words and imagery
they forget their audience. Academia seeking to justify its existence does no
endeavor any good be it Poetry or Political Science. On the other hand, if you
write for a living and have mastered the sonnet or the ballad by writing
hundreds of poems, creating more and more intricate designs is a necessary
challenge. Few of us excel at any endeavor to be in the “reach for the
stars” mode, witness my crocheting.
So allow me to share
with you favorite lines from poems that are clear and appealing.
Observing my rhubarb
seriously growing up this week, Jane Kenyon’s description nails what I see in
her poem, “April Chores”.
Like a mad red
brain the involute rhubarb leaf thinks its way up through the loam.
Involute
was a new word for me and it means whorled, curved within itself. Perfect
description of new rhubarb leaves.
New poems are being
written in full sentences, experimenting with full margin-to-margin lines
rather than raggedy phrases pushed around the page. For those of you living in
climates that are slow to warm up this year, you may appreciate Jim Harrison’s
associations with a late Spring. (I heard a rumor that Pennsylvania has
incarcerated the rodent, Punxsutawney Phil, because he predicted Spring would arrive
in March. He was incorrect.)
Here is part of Jim
Harrison’s poem, Spring.
Something
new in the air today, perhaps the struggle of the bud
to
become a leaf. Nearly two weeks late it invaded the air but
then
what is two weeks to life herself? On a cool night there is
a
break from the struggle of becoming. I suppose that’s why we
sleep……
If
you think you might want to participate in Poetry Appreciation Month you can
buy or check out of your library Jim Harrison’s book, Songs of
Unreason, printed by Copper Canyon Press, 2011. Jane Kenyon’s book is Collected Poems. Graywolf Press, 2005.
Do you have a
favorite poem that lifts your spirits?
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