about grief

I got three magnetic picture frames for Christmas so I put a picture of Simon and Beatrice in one, a picture of me holding David when he was less than a year old in another, and a picture of David on his last Memorial Day at Ron, Laura and Ana's in the backyard. He was holding a Spiderman hover balloon, his favorite baseball cap, striped red shirt, and looking down with a sweet smile on his face. I put it on the refrigerator near the picture of him looking right at me while Rick holds him, and near the picture of Julia in her beautiful flowery dress and golden curls, looking so gorgeous and loving.

And it struck me yet again that David's not coming back. He will never see his sweet sister grow older. And as Alana says, I will never have any new memories of David. He's truly gone. The sobs come then. I've been waiting for them this Christmas. He loved Christmas. He loved presents and decorations and candy canes and bows and baking cookies and seeing all the Christmas lights. When I'm with Julia, sometimes I think of how like him she is and how I behave with her like I did with him, pointing out the houses with the lights and buying fun decorations for her. Is it fair that she reminds me of him? She's her own self. But sometimes she sounds just like him - when she growls especially.

I suppose Julia will always remind us of David, because she is his sister. Once she's past six, though, the memories will be in our minds only for she will be older than he ever had a chance to be. Alana's reminder that he had two years after diagnosis is what it is. I continue to wish he'd been cured. It's hard to be grateful for two years when I wish he had eighty-two more years at least. He should be here now. It's so incredibly sad.

So I think about grief. I've learned that grief is indescribable. It just is. There is no rhyme or reason or explanation or control for grief. It has its own path and timetable. It lives deep within until it creeps into consciousness and overtakes my heart to make tears. These tears are like steam escaping from a pressure cooker - they have to come out or I will explode. But there's no relief as I have known tears to give. It's just grief in another form. Sometimes it lurks as depression and no motivation. Or it's irritability and dropping things. Other times I withdraw from people and can barely talk to anyone. All I want to do is be with Julia. Or Ana, if she'd let me. I just want to be with the living, the loving people I already know and love.

One thing I'm learning about the depth of my grief: I have enough of it for a lifetime. I can't add much more. I have spent the past two years grieving constantly. On January 14, it will be two years since those shits at City Harvest stabbed me in the heart and betrayed me, cutting me off from my passion and lifework. I am still angry, yet somehow I'm too tired to be very angry anymore. The grief is exhausting. And then David got leukemia. And then David died. And then I got fired again. And David was still dead. And I still can't emerge from being frozen. How can I open my heart to anyone else when it's irreparably broken already? I am so damn sad every day. I don't cry every day anymore, but most days I have tears come to my eyes. And every day I look at David's picture and wonder why he is gone and I am still here. Why? Why? The question that has absolutely no answer. Never will have.

I get a little sick of all this grief. Is it possible to emerge from it? Or rather to live with it, meaning to live and go on, with it? I don't know how to do it.

That's the other thing I've learned about grief: it has its own timetable, its own rhythm and its own way of directing me. This has been the biggest lesson in letting go ever possible. How do I know what each day will bring? I don't.

I want to be grateful for every day I am alive, in David's honor. I'm not yet there. I can't imagine living without Julia, and I can't imagine Julia and Ana having to lose me. I know I am a very important person to both of them, a very important person. If I am having such a hard time with loss, they are having even harder times.

Julia was very sad tonight. I think she is sad that Mommy had a dream about David. I think she wishes she had a dream about him. She misses him a lot. I also think she hates hearing about Grandma and Grandpa moving. More loss for that little girl. And more loss for Ana. She misses Ana, too. I just want to spare them these feelings.

I remember being so carefree in my loving, so open and happy with people after I got sober. 1982. And then AIDS hit, and my friends died. One by one, my circle of friends got smaller. Bill Pflugradt died. Jose died. Steven Pender. The twins. Dennis. I pulled back. Stopped being able to be friends with gay men, because they would die. Then it got easier again, but when my friends moved out of NYC - Cynthia and Sydney, Barbara, Susan, Anna, Sue, Julie - I lost my capacity to love again. 9/11 really knocked it out for me, as did the whole A2H experience.

I am not who I thought I was, I am not as strong as I thought I was. I have not the resilience I thought I had. Nor yet the resilience others think I have.

So much is written to help people get stronger, to move past their insecurities and frailties, to seize the day and be their best selves, to follow their dreams and take positive action. I've read so much of it, and I've given much advice like it. I still do. Maybe it's necessary because otherwise it's hard to put one foot in front of the other and keep going every day. What's the point? Make a point, give life meaning by taking those steps, doing those things, changing those thoughts, trying those new things on, chasing and catching that dream. If life weren't so hard, we wouldn't need so much encouragement to live it fully. Or is it that it's hard to be conscious and life gets less hard when we are conscious? Blind I cannot feel, heart open I see clearly. Being at ease.

It's exhausting to always try my hardest. That's not being at ease. Being at ease, my being is at ease. And that means being as I am in each moment. If I am grieving and withdrawn, so be it. No urging or shoulds will change my inner being. My inner being will be harmed if I force my outside into a form of "should" or "ought to" or "make an effort."

So I want to say to people, let yourselves be! You are perfect as you are right now. Pay attention to how you feel, to what you think, to your random thoughts and stray wishes, to what you want, to your deepest truth. And speak it out loud, or write it to yourself. Witness your inner being. Allow it air to breathe, light to reveal, voice to be heard. Sad, glad, mad - it's all good for it's all you. No pretzels allowed. Just be.

about 2006

I’m looking back at 2006 and feel more at peace than I have in a long time. While I’ve never written one of these year-end epistles, I have so many friends I’ve sadly neglected that I’m giving it a try to share what’s happened.

2006 began with my growing sinking feeling about my job and my health. I was Executive Director of New York Restoration Project, a position I took in June 2005 on the rebound from City Harvest. A little background – I had a total hip replacement in September 2004, which indirectly resulted in my being unceremoniously and suddenly ousted by City Harvest’s Board in January 2005. Despite physical therapy, I was unable to walk properly by April 2005 and panicked that I could not take the new job. Fortunately, the recruiter from Philips Oppenheim knew a chiropractor who specialized in Active Release Therapy (a wonderful method of deep manipulation of connective tissues and muscle attachments). By June 1, I was ready to start. On walking in the door, though, I got a sinking and ultimately prescient feeling that this job wasn’t the right fit.

By December 2005, I had worked myself ragged trying to prove my worthiness to NYRP’s Founder – and to avoid grief. My beloved nephew David passed away June 29, 2005 after two years battling rare cancer, fibrosarcoma of the brain. I still find it difficult to believe he is gone. Then, I was in a combined state of denial, deep anger at God and the world, and despairing indifference. My lower back gave out and I spent ten days flat on my back working from home.

It was clear by January that there could be only one leader at NYRP and it wasn’t me. The position I wanted was not what I wound up with, and I wasn’t satisfied being a glorified office manager. In a way I was relieved when the Board Chair informed me that the Founder and Board felt this was no longer a good fit. Scared about the future, yes, but relieved that I didn’t have to show up for work that was more and more dispiriting and demoralizing.

As of February 1, I was unemployed – again. I was in shock. Me, who had worked since age 14, suddenly had been asked to leave two jobs in a single year. I was catapulted into self-doubt and, unbeknownst to me, a transition process.

I sought work, of course, and spent most of the spring networking and applying for various jobs in and around the NYC area as well as one in California. While in San Francisco for an interview, I visited my dear friend Cynthia and her partner Kathleen, my Uncle Al and Aunt Jo, and Maplewood friends who’d relocated. Twice, I got to the finalist stage only to be first runner-up. In May, I joined a group in Maplewood to help with my search, TransitionWorks (http://www.transitionworks.org/). Using William Bridges’ wonderful book Transitions as its foundation, TW consists of a workshop series where we explore our pasts in order to identify our intentions for the next phase of our lives. Following the workshop is an ongoing dialogue group, where people share their process and progress toward finding the “right fit” in terms of job, lifestyle and living their values. I was becoming ensconced in the group when physical trauma struck.

June 2 was my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary and we four kids (me, Alana, John and Ron) organized a celebration for them and their friends and relatives. It was a wonderful party – my brother John put together a video chronicling their lives together, my sister Alana gathered tons of photos and put together a beautiful memory book, I downloaded all their CDs and uploaded them on the gold iPod we four gave them, and my brother Ron organized the cakes and lots of set-up/break-down. Actually, all of us did physical labor, so I wasn’t surprised when my lower back began to hurt the morning of the party. After the party, I did what I normally do – went to bed, took muscle relaxants and ibuprofen (at different times), and saw the chiropractor. But this time, it didn’t work and the pain got worse and worse. I ended up having another spinal surgery on June 29, 2006 (L4 microdiskectomy to relieve pressure on the L4 sciatic nerve).

This was my fourth major surgery in seven years, and it dawned on me that I could no longer look for a big job because it required greater physical ability. The past six months have been among the most challenging times in my life, as I struggle to come to terms with being physically disabled. Fortunately, I have a private disability policy. Unfortunately, they required me to apply for Social Security Disability. That form was endless and took forever because I cannot sit for long periods of time. Now, all the forms are in and I await SSA’s determination. Only when they turn me down or accept me will my private insurance start to pay me. Meanwhile, I live on savings.

Physically, I’ve made many accommodations. I have significant pain every day and so am often quite exhausted. I sleep a lot more than I used to. I’ve had the flu three times this fall. It’s difficult for me to walk very far or do much exercise. I no longer lift and carry things, so need help with things like groceries. I traveled with the Cobles (my sister’s family) to Nebraska to visit my Uncle Ron and Aunt Cass, and stopped to see my brother John, sister-in-law Susi and niece Helen – and realize that I can’t really do long-distance travel anymore. Because cooking takes too great a toll on my back, I do very little of it. Thankfully, I am part of my sister’s household since I live just one house away from her. Every night, I eat with Alana, her husband Rick, and their 4 ½ year old daughter Julia (named for me). My housemate, Sue Brennan, helps a lot with the heavy work around the house, like taking the recycling out, and she takes care of the housecleaning. I see a local ART chiropractor twice a week and hope that will have good long-term results. Now that I’ve basically accepted my limits, I’d like to focus on my body becoming more able over time.

I withdrew from many loving friends over the past six months as my internal work was so consuming and my transition from physically able to less physically able so hard. My world got smaller, so living in Maplewood is a blessing for me. Sue’s partner Vivian often visits so it sometimes feels like the old days in NYC with my friend Anna and then Sean next door: an urban dorm gone suburban. I see my parents a lot, as they often come see Julia (and us) and visit David’s grave. My 14 year old niece Ana stays with me sometimes (less than I’d like), and I am learning about how difficult it is to be a teenager these days. I love her and am glad to be close enough to offer her a safe haven. I have two really good friends here, Phillipa and Leslie, and am slowly getting to know other people through Alana and little Julia.

I often get to pick Julia up from day care (we call it “school”) and attend some of the birthday parties and other events. I’m known as Auntie Julie. I love being so close to my sister and being such a huge part of her daughter’s life. Julia and I bonded deeply when her brother David was sick and Mommy (Alana) spent chunks of time in the hospital with him. Now, she has two houses and I have a real role in helping to raise her. My generous sister and brother-in-law are amazing in their acceptance of my partnership and love for their daughter. And my help allows my sister to work hard – she just spent two weeks in Dubai for work. My heart is slowly healing from the grief of losing David and City Harvest in the same year.

The question now is what do I do with my brain. Many people will deal with this issue: I have big brain capacity and limited body capacity, whereas I used to have big brain and big body capacity. I wonder what I can do, what I want to do, and how I can do it. Before my surgery, I laid groundwork for a number of things. I set up an LLC through which I could do consulting and coaching, Mission Advancement Consulting. I started working on an MBA through an on-line university, Cardean, which gets its very challenging courses from U of Chicago, Columbia, Stanford, Carnegie-Mellon and London School of Economics. I’m mid-way through that. I host a “Monday morning get-going” meeting at my house for people in TransitionWorks who are not working and need support and structure to stay on the trail. There, I’ve processed a lot of grief about City Harvest and anger and shame about how I was treated, in order to end that phase of my life and prepare for the next. And I’m writing in my blogs like this one. I find I can do things that allow me to set my own schedule and stay close to home: research, on-line classes, and writing.

Today, my goal is to write books that help people forge loving, positive lives in a challenging world. I’ve grappled with things many others face: alcoholism and addiction, job hunting and career building, family and community, self-acceptance and personal accountability, death of a child and other losses, getting fired, moving to the suburbs and creating new community. I’ve emerged strong, compassionate, and convinced that I must be kind to myself and to others. I also face uncommon issues like being a twin and an “almost mom.” I think my approach to these can help others with their unique circumstances. So I put this intention out into the universe to see what happens.

about how I learned to make decisions

I've struggled with making decisions based on my own highest good rather than what other people think I should do. Using 12-step program tools permitted me to keep the focus on myself when making decisions. Keeping the focus on myself allowed me to use the 3 A's: Awareness, Acceptance and Action.

First, I became aware of how I'd been making decisions. My usual M.O. was to ask everyone I ran into what I should do. I collected opinions like other people collect recipes - indiscriminately - and then tossed them into a mental pile, not knowing which were most important and relevant, and then not knowing how to sort through them at all. Eventually, I'd pick one and do that, without thinking through the consequences. If I was unhappy with the decision I made, I'd whine about it and try to change it even if it was too late. I acted precipitously because I felt such an urgency to make a decision.

Next I had to accept that this was my decision-making process. That was very hard, because I immediately wanted it to be different. I had decided that if it was my process, it must be incorrect because I was a sick puppy. Didn't that mean that everything I had done prior to program was unhealthy? Then let me make it go away, be different, change it NOW! For me, the slogan "awareness, acceptance, and then action" let me know that I couldn't jump right from awareness to action. I needed to slow down and go through some process of acceptance. I didn't really know what acceptance meant, or what it would look like.

As I slowed down to observe my behavior and notice what I did, I found that there were elements of my decision-making that perhaps were worth salvaging. Perhaps they could be elements of a more effective, less stressful way of making decisions.

For instance, I noticed that if I rejected the idea that I had to make a decision RIGHT NOW!, then slowly some of the opinions I'd gathered floated to the top of my mind. I found myself thinking about them and assessing them against my gut feeling. That seemed like a great way of using feedback from others. The piece missing from my previous process was time. Time to consider, time to think through options, time to let God work, time for prayer. This became the foundation for the final step, action.

I now had a conceptual framework for making decisions of all sorts: Identify all my options, give myself some time and slow down or eliminate the feeling of urgency, ask for guidance from my higher power, and use my gut.

That last piece was really important and was a new element that I found myself adding to decision-making. I started "trying on" decisions. I'd decide one way, and see what my gut told me. If I felt like I couldn't live with the outcome, I knew I needed to go in a different direction, make a different decision. If I felt comfortable, then I'd made the right decision.

The final thing that helped me was what some Al-Anoner told me: there is no such thing as a wrong decision, there are only opportunities for growth. What I've taken from that is that I can make a decision and if it doesn't turn out to have the results I expected and wanted, I can still live with those results. And perhaps those are better results in the long run. I don't know.

I do know that I can improve my attitude toward whatever comes at me in my life. I always can look for the positives. I always can ask for help from people and from my Higher Power. I always can practice acceptance of life on life's terms. I can work the steps and make amends for decisions and actions I've taken that have harmed other people, and can learn from it so I don't have to repeat that behavior. I have come to see the truth and reality of the Promises that come after Step Nine in the AA Big Book: "we will not regret the past nor wish to change it. We will see how our experience can benefit others."

about being on the right path

I just read a post from Lou Tice at the Pacific Institute about "Great Ideas - Your Choice." He lists seven ideas:

First, becoming your best self is a choice you make - every day.

Second, change happens through action and the understanding that we create our future.

Third, recognize and dwell on your strengths, use them constantly, and watch them grow.

Fourth, facing your fears is not a one-time event, but it gets easier the more you do it.

Fifth, procrastination does not exist. What exists is a passive choice to do nothing.

Sixth, believe in the importance of your ideas, and your ability to bring them into reality.

And, seventh, refuse to give up. Persist in the face of all opposition, every setback, and be totally, 100% committed to bringing about the end-result you desire.

It's similar to what we were saying yesterday at TransitionWorks Monday "Get Going Meeting" about forming our intention, summoning up the motivation to take action, and trusting our instincts. I particularly agree with the third, fourth, fifth and sixth ideas, with one caveat on the fifth. I do believe that there is no such thing as procrastination, and I suppose it is a passive choice to do nothing. What I also think, however, is that it's worth examining the procrastination to discover that I've chosen to do nothing.

It's worth understanding that procrastination may be a sign that I'm not supposed to do the thing I'm not doing. There is always some reason for not doing something and I can discover it if I explore a little, and if I let a little time go by. I've found that there are times when the seeming procrastination was in fact appropriate because I didn't have enough information to take the right action.

For example, I was supposed to call a funding source to inquire about applying for another grant. I kept putting off the call, to the dismay and increasing disgust of my fundraising staff. I could just hear them muttering "why doesn't she just make the damn call? Is my work not important to her?" etc. Well, it turned out that by waiting two weeks, I gathered some information from other staff people that resulted in our developing a unique approach to a problem - viewing hunger as a public health problem. When I called the funding source, she was so excited by this view and the program possibilities, that she arranged a meeting of her other grantees and we were able to make alliances that resulted in significant new dollars - from the funder in question as well as new sources. I debriefed the whole episode with the development staff so they could understand that sometimes there's an unrecognized method to my seeming madness. I just trusted that I'd take the action when it was right, and wouldn't until it felt right.

I think Tice still "shoulds" a little bit on people, especially in his seventh idea. Sometimes too many obstacles are the universe's way of telling me to stop, reassess, think about what paths are open that are free of obstacles and perhaps head that way. Sometimes I do need to find a way around the obstacles or wait for the obstacles to disappear, if I am clear all the way to my core that I am headed in the right direction. I have found it distinctly dangerous to plunge headlong into obstacles without a little time for reflection and recalibrating.

I'm not giving up on my goal, nor do I advocate that anyone give up if they feel so strongly that they are on the right path and headed toward the goal for them. Just...pause for a moment, catch your breath, refocus, look around for another next step. There's always more than one way to get to one's goal.

I believe we can trust our instinct and sense of timing when we're in the search. Part of the search is observing what we do effortlessly and with enthusiasm, and what we find ourselves unwilling or reluctant to do. Those are key signposts pointing us to the path that is right for us.

I remember my therapist years ago telling me to pay attention to my instincts even in the smallest of things, as training to learn to trust myself to make the right choices for myself. So I'd hear a little inner voice saying "don't go down that block" and I wouldn't. I shudder to think of what might have happened if I'd gone down that block - maybe nothing, but I have been mugged and splashed by cars and rudely bumped into and other things. Sometimes I'd hear the voice "buy the milk" and would think "oh, I have plenty of milk at home" and not buy it, only to get home and not have any milk. I'd forgotten that I'd made something the night before and used up all the milk.

The thing about signposts is that they do point me in a direction - and it's helpful to know generally where I want to go. That's where intent comes in. The signs along the way help me formulate my intent - it's like if I want to relax but don't know where I can best relax. I'm on the road and I see a sign for the beach and that attracts me. So I head in that direction. Maybe the roads will all be clear to get me to the beach because that's the best place for me to relax. Maybe there will be terrible traffic jams on the way to the beach. So I look around for a road that's clear, and eventually end up in a forest, or by a lake, or back at my own home. The point is that eventually the signs along the road will help me zero in on where I want to be and will help me get there. I may not know when I start out but eventually I'll get there and recognize it when I do.

I may be at the point where I know where I want to go - it feels right, solid, joyful. I just don't know the best way to get there. Again, there will be signposts - my gut will tell me things (feels good : ) go there! or feels bad :( stay away), stuff keeps getting in the way or nothing falls into place or it's taking fooooreeeeveeeer, everything flows easily and falls into place quickly. My job is to pay attention and then take the next right action.

While driving in England, I was struck by the many different roads and byways that led to the same places. I'd be looking for Ashdown on the map, and I had at least two equally long or short ways to get there from Pangbourne. Once I got to Ashdown, I could go several miles in the wrong direction and see a sign leading to Pangbourne. I came to count on the interrelatedness of all the roads. My mother and I drove up to Coventry one day and on the way back, got off the A1 because the traffic was backing up outside of Reading. I knew that we would find our way to Pangbourne even without a map and in the dark on those twisty, turny country roads with single lanes and lay-bys. We did, simply by looking for the signposts. I know we made a couple of "wrong" turns, meaning that we drove a bit longer than strictly needed. But even in the dark, we saw some lovely little town centres and farm land - new views and experiences we would have missed by following the straightest path.

An important signpost for me is when I get angry at people pushing me. For me, anger is a sign that I am out of balance and feeling uncomfortable with my path. So it's time for a little self-reflection. What was it that was making me so angry? Usually there's a phrase or word or tone that especially annoyed me. If I dig a little around that annoyance, I might find that the person has pinpointed my own inner disturbance, something that I don't want to pay attention to because it is too much trouble or too painful or too much work or too much for me to handle - so I fear.

For example, the fact that I'm physically disabled is extremely difficult for me to accept. In the beginning of this journey in June, I got so angry at people who'd suggest that I simply had to do more exercise or therapy or lose weight or something to get my body back in shape. I also got angry at people who suggested that I should move more quickly to apply for disability. And I got angry at people who suggested I should look for part-time work or full-time work or consulting or something. I was just so out of balance that I couldn't talk to anyone about it. Finally I realized that I needed some time to adjust internally, to pay attention to what I physically could and could not do, to try some things that felt right (like a specific kind of chiropractic treatment and lots of sleep) and frankly, to feel a little sorry for myself and especially to grieve the loss of my formerly active life and capable body.

Once I realized I needed that time and allowed myself to take it, I no longer got angry at people's suggestions. I understood that they loved me and were having their own difficulty processing and accepting this shift in my life. Their suggestions came out of love and from their own discomfort, perhaps from their need to feel powerful in the face of something they had no power over.

My anger was not a sign that I should have been doing something different. It was a sign that I was engaged in some internal processing, some adjustment to a new way of being in the world. Once I became conscious and aware of that, I no longer struggled against other people. I recognized that the struggle was my own and my anger was a way of avoiding it, of externalizing it. I guess it felt too big to handle on my own.

Paradoxically, when I realized that I was grieving a past way of living and being, I could share that with my friends and it eased my burden as well as noticeably easing their own discomfort.

Here's my version of Tice's seven great ideas:

First, understand that you create your own future, that you have power to improve your inner self and outer reality as long as you can envision it.

Second, believe that your intention, idea, and goal are important. Believe in your ability to bring them into reality.

Third, recognize and dwell on your strengths, use them constantly, and watch them grow.
Becoming your best self is a choice you make - every day.

Fourth, change happens through action and you can take some positive action every day.

Fifth, facing your fears is not a one-time event, but it gets easier the more you do it.

Sixth, procrastination does not exist. What exists is a passive choice to do nothing. Be aware that you are making the choice and explore why.

And, seventh, refuse to give up. Persist in the face of all opposition, every setback, and be totally, 100% committed to bringing about the end-result you desire. Believe that there is a way to your heart's dream and you will find it. Believe that if you envision it, it's already there waiting for you.

about perception

I just wish I could express what I feel so it reaches air. So you can feel it, too. Words don’t express that much, though. And I’m not sure that anyone has ever managed to make anyone else feel what she feels. All feeling is transposed by our own experiential lens, our memory filter, our sensory makeup. Moviemakers come closest. Or is it musicians?

So here’s something I’ve always wondered: do you see the same blue I see when I use the word blue? How do we know we’re seeing the same thing? What if what looks like blue to me is really red to you, except because we use the same word, we believe we are seeing the same thing? Every time you see your blue, I see my blue so that’s ok, we’re on the same wavelength. But are we seeing the same thing? Really? And how could we tell? Because my filter will always tell me I see blue and so will yours. Even scientific instruments can’t distinguish for us, because we see their results through our own innate lenses.

And so it could be with feelings. I listen to a piece of music and want to cry. You say it makes you sad, too. And I see your tears, just as you see mine. I touch your tears, they are as warm and moist as mine. Seems like we’re having the same feeling. But I don’t know what your “sad” feels like. I only know what mine feels like. Mine feels icy and spiky sometimes, hot and deep others. And those words barely scratch the surface. Sadness feels like the end, the absolute “over” state, done, finished, nowhere to go, surrender and collapse. Sadness is relief. Sadness is unrequited. There is nothing but it. It is high and wide, long and deep, shallow and smoldering, obvious and lurking, creeping slowly into consciousness to take over as it has already overcome all unconsciousness. I am surprised by sadness. I start to cry and know that I have been sad for a while. It’s been rising like yeasted bread, shaping my mood and reactions before I’m even aware that it’s there. A little shortness here, a hesitation there. My throat catches, David flashes by, and there they come at last, the tears of release. Release, relief, grief.

Does any of that sound familiar? Does any of that resonate within your core? Can you understand how I feel by reading my words? Is your feeling of grief the same as mine? Or do we just approximate our empathy based on trust? It takes a great leap of faith to voice a feeling. To admit to feeling something to another is the most vulnerable of states. For you cannot feel my feeling, I cannot transmit it to you. It remains within me, mine, expressible only by words, movement, facial signs. I trust that you will have some knowledge of your own similar feelings, enough for you to cast yourself somewhat into that state and fish out a bit of compassion. You cannot feel my feelings, yet in re-feeling your own, you may approximate empathy. You may sense my need by recalling your own. You may give me the space and time and attention to fully feel my feelings without envying me that experience.

Maybe those who have a paucity of feeling are envious. I don’t know if there are people who lack feeling, more that there are people who lack experiences of fully feeling. I can’t stop to think of why that would be. Just know that there are those whose emotional vocabulary is small as yet.

about how people can launch a non-profit CAREER

Again, something I wrote last year (2005) when I was seeking to do good in the world and pass on my knowledge base. First, I realized I needed to record my knowledge! I never really did anything with the Twelve Tips site, because I got consulting work and then caught up in getting the job at NYRP. And after I left there, it just was too depressing to do anything helpful. Now, I can!

This is aimed especially at young people who really want to work in non-profits, and many tips are applicable to disenchanted entry-level private sector people, too. The tips are pretty general, and should really be separated into:

1) How to get your first non-profit job

2) How to turn your non-profit job into a career

And different guidance is needed for people in the private sector who are looking to start a second chapter in life. Certainly, they should follow the first four tips. Then talk to friends or colleagues who know people in the field(s) you particularly like and network your way into a job.

At any rate, here's what I wrote last year:

1. Find a cause you love and believe in passionately

2. Search the web for a non-profit in your local area that works on that cause

3. Volunteer to do anything for that group just to get experience

4. Do informational interviews with leaders at that and other non-profits (not just the CEO!) to find out how they got started

5. Look for an entry-level position in the classified section of the most prestigious paper in your region, at idealist.com and other web job search sites (craigslist, monster, Chronicle of Philanthropy)

6. Treat the non-profit as you would a for-profit - with respect! Dress up for the interview, do your homework, have some questions, be humble.

7. Do more than the job you're hired to do - happily.

8. Learn to anticipate what your boss wants/needs, and provide it!

9. Work with others - help them, ask for help.

10. Avoid office politics and intrigue - gossips are viewed as troublemakers.

11. Remember why you wanted to work in the field and rekindle your passion.

12. Network with others in the field, keep your ears and eyes open for jobs and causes that could be your next step along (even at your current place of employment).

Again, every one of these points can be elaborated on. Maybe that's my next task - to flesh it all out in a separate blog. Or a separate website. I have to get that website going...

about making meaningful charitable contributions

I wrote this in 2005, not long after leaving City Harvest. It's on aol in a blog called "Twelve Tips" but I realize I need all my blog stuff in one place. Here it is, without edits:

1. Identify what you feel passionate about, what you wish you could work on full-time, where you want to make a difference.

2. Determine how much you want to donate.

3. Go to charitynavigator.com and search for groups that work on your issue(s)

4. Do your homework: read the profiles, find out about their missions and activities, budgets, sources of funds.

5. Don't assume that groups with two and three star ratings are not as good as those with four stars. Younger organizations, organizations that raise primarily private (not government) funds, and human services groups can tend to have higher fundraising expenses - it costs money to raise money!

6. Go to the web sites of those that really interest you.

7. If you have a little to give ($500 or less), you might want to choose a smaller charity so your gift has more of an impact.

8. If you have more to give, find out what the organization(s) consider a "major gift." Any gift less than that amount shouldn't be earmarked for a specific project - the organization just can't afford to track it.

9. Major gifts (usually $1000 and up) mean you're serious about the organization and they will consider that you are starting a relationship with them. So feel free to call and ask questions, or e-mail them. Gifts of $5000 or more may be worth making a site visit or meeting with a staff person.

10. Gifts of any amount can be made all at once or over time. Many groups have monthly giving clubs.

11. Consider making fewer and bigger donations in order to have more impact.

12. Remember that your financial support is vitally important to the organization's ability to fulfill its mission. You are a critical partner, a valuable member of the team.

I think this could use some edits to make it more applicable to folks with incomes less than 6 figures, but basically the right steps are there.

about shopping smarter

I just realized that I should share the good news about getting money back when I shop. It's hard to believe, but there is a shopping portal - Spree.com - that actually keeps track of how much money I spend at various member sites and then sends me a check a couple months later - after I've racked up at least $25 in cash-back rewards.

I like that it's a check and not a paper record of "cashback bonuses" attached to a credit card. If I use the credit card, I probably incur interest and that just about uses up all the cashback bonus. I'd rather use my American Express, rack up points with which I can get stuff, and get cash back from Spree.com.

While I have cut back on my spending considerably since being unemployed, I do still have to buy things - gifts, clothes to fit my expanding waistline, shoes, underwear, food, cleaning supplies, books, office supplies, gardening supplies, etc. So I've figured that I should pay for everything with one card, the one that requires me to pay it off immediately: Amex. And I get Rewards Points.

Those add up quickly, I have found, and are VERY useful for big-ticket items that I just couldn't stomach paying for with cash. For instance, I just got a Dyson vacuum cleaner for 66,000 points. I have wanted one since it first came out. But it costs $600 or so. No way was I going to shell out that kind of cash. Now, I happened to have that many points. What else am I going to do with them? Sure, I can get small things, but that doesn't make a lot of sense to me. Why use 10,000 points for something that costs less than $100? Psychologically, I can handle $100 or $200 or maybe even $300 in cash. But no more than that. So points are a fantastic way to get those expensive items without spending any more cash than I already have. And I've found that I don't have to pay freight/shipping when I get one of the big-ticket items. It's like free money! I've gotten outdoor furniture, a combo TV/VCR/DVD player, rugs, a dehumidifier and camera with points.

Other people use their points for airplane trips. Since I don't really go anywhere anymore, I don't need to save them for that. Points are the perfect currency for a shopaholic like me who has less money than she'd like.

And when I do spend cash money? Going through Spree.com is the way for me. It has almost all the stores and brands I like, and if it doesn't, it has a reasonable fascimile. Kathy Bevacqua was a jewel to turn me on to it. I don't understand why other people are reluctant to use it. Is it the "too good to be true" idea? Or laziness? Or absent-mindedness? Sometimes I buy without going through Spree - and could kick myself afterwards. Maybe my writing about it is a way to reinforce for me that it is a SMART way to shop.

about transitions

This fall, I began hosting a Monday morning "get going" meeting for people who are part of TransitionWorks (www.transitionworks.org) here in Maplewood, NJ.

TransitionWorks is a workshop/dialogue/community for and of people who are making a work-related transition. Many of us have been laid off or let go or downsized or "early retired" at least once. Most of us are unwilling or unable (is there a difference really?) to take just another job. We feel something is missing - we're tired of doing what we're supposed to do and want to do something more fulfilling, or we're sick of the rat race and commuting and want to spend more time with family and friends, or we just don't like doing the same thing we've done for 20 to 30 years. It's time for a change.

Actually, many of us have tried change and that hasn't worked. We move to a different job, but it feels the same. What we need is .... TRANSITION!

John Harvey (founder of TransitionWorks) and Alfred Milanese (co-director) base the workshop on William Bridges' book Transitions. The book focuses on how transition is different from change in its depth and range. Change is something that happens to us or that we make relatively quickly. Transition is more of a process. Bridges talks about transition being made up of endings, the neutral zone, and beginnings. One has to end something in order to begin something new. And after ending something, there is a space before beginning anew - he calls it the neutral zone. I call it "the dark hallway between the door God just closed and the one he'd better open soon." It's the pitchblack hallway where I cannot see clearly ahead of me. I can only feel my way along, moving slowly and exploring the interior landscape - oh, this is a wall, or this is a door but it's locked, and here's a window sill - I feel it but it's still now quite right, not quite the right door. I'll know it when I get there! And the door will open when it's the right fit.

The TransitionWorks workshop is fantastic - it helped me end my past life and oriented me to being in the neutral zone. And slowly, I'm beginning a new phase.

Part of my new phase is hosting these Monday meetings as an adjunct to the TransitionWorks workshops. After hearing a number of people talk about being stuck, John urged us to meet during the day to give each other encouragement and support to continue moving toward our ultimate objective. The Monday meeting was intended to be a short one, just to help us focus on what we did the past week and what we intend to do in the coming week. But it has evolved into something different.

The meetings have evolved into two and 1/2 to three hour long sessions. This ensures that everyone has a chance to talk through their current status and get feedback from the group. Group members ask questions, challenge each other, make observations, and gently push each other toward more focused intention, more embracing of our own strengths and abilities, and more confidence in our capacity to find the right fit. Every experience is used as a chance to learn, and we help each other transform deep disappointment into another step toward realizing our dreams.

“Didn’t get that job? Fabulous! You’re one step closer to the right one!”

“Hated the people at the interview? Great, because now you have more information about who you DON’T want to work with.”

It’s a great follow-up to the TransitionWorks workshop - a chance to refine our objective and intention, see how it plays out in real life, and then talk about it with a group of supportive people in the same boat. All of us are getting permission to follow our instincts, to quiet the desperation that may force us to take just any job, and to feel confident that we WILL find the right fit.

We remind each other of what Alfred and John have told all of us - that we can pursue a dual path - take a job for money while keeping the dream alive and taking steps toward it. One refinement of that statement is that we don’t have to take just ANY job to make money - it too can be a “right fit” even if it’s not the perfect fit. Yesterday, someone said if we like 80% of a job, we’re doing fantastically. Likewise, if we like 60-70% of a job, it’s worth taking while we continue to work toward getting the one that’s 80%+.

Yesterday morning, five of us met. One prior attendee couldn’t make it because he’s finishing up a consulting gig before starting his new full-time job! It was awesome watching him transform in six or seven weeks from unfocused to extremely focused and successful in finding the “right fit.”
The key for him was zeroing in on HIMSELF - what he wanted from a job and what he had to offer. Monday mornings helped him get that focus, gave him permission to pay attention to and explore his feelings and instincts, and validated his pursuit of work that would fulfill him.

Another member is getting a job offer this week, for a job that she basically created out of her clear intention and networking. I'm much clearer about what I want to do, within my physical limits. And I'm meeting fascinating people who have amazing skills and are willing and able to help each other.

It's like watching a 12 step program come to life but without a substance or disease as its focus. We are focused on helping each other find the "right fit" - an occupation where I can use my abilities in service of my passion, and continue to learn and grow.

about principles of recovery

I'm only now understanding that I need other 12 step meetings for my daily survival and growth. It's pretty easy to go to meetings devoted to keeping alcohol at bay. It's more difficult to go to those devoted to helping me keep fear and judgement at bay. Those feelings are so familiar, I barely notice when they take over and begin to insinuate themselves into every portion of my life.

The emotional form of the disease of alcoholism is just as "cunning, baffling and powerful" as the alcohol form. And so I am starting to viscerally understand that my quality of life is dependent on the extent to which I work my program.

I was initially attracted to 12 step when I realized that it could help me deal with the alcoholics in my life - active and recovering. As I watched people with time in program, I realized I didn't actually have to deal with the alcoholics in my life, I could deal with my own life and the alcoholics would be part of, not the focus of, my life. It would be MY life, instead of my life as a function of the alcoholic's life. That was VERY attractive to me.

I was especially attracted to the consistent members - those who attended meetings and shared because program was their lifeline, their home, their support, come thick or thin, good times and difficult. In my fledgling days, I began to think uncharitably about those people who only came to meetings during a crisis and then disappeared when things got better. They took and didn't give. That was NOT attractive to me. I liked the people who lived the axiom "you can'tkeep it unless you give it away."

Oops. As always, I have become the very person I judged.

I have to laugh at myself for being so predictable and so human. Myjudgements always come home to roost. And in the spirit of humility, I try to use these experiences to develop compassion for myself and others. As the preamble says "we aren't perfect."

Now that I realize this, too, I can amend my behavior and begin showing up consistently. I can be one of those people whose attendance ensures that a meeting can happen, whose sharing provides an example of the principles, and whose participation allows someone else to be attracted to the program.