3-month update!

It's been ages since I have written on my blog! Here's a quick update on the last 3 months.

My ankle continues to heal and the discomfort I feel is less and less each day. I'm riding my bicycle outside again, gaining strength, and rebuilding muscle lost while recuperating.

I just finished an intensive French writing course. I enjoyed it and met some pretty neat people.

I have been reading lots while recuperating, which means lots of visits to the library. Fortunately for me, it's about 8 blocks away, which allows me to get my practice walk (for strengthening my ankle) in every time I go.

On June 24, Michel (the man who is my life partner) and I will celebrate our anniversary--5 years of living together!

So while this year has been quite different from those in the past, I find that so far, it's been a year of growth and new beginnings and gratitude. I'm grateful that our bodies heal the way they do and that a broken bone can repair itself. I'm grateful that there are those people who train to help you rebuild your body after an accident. I'm grateful for those people who have kept me in their healing thoughts and have given me wisdom and advice during this time.

My goal for the second half of the year is to remember what I have learned, keep practicing the lessons, and express joy, love, and gratitude for each day as it comes. :o)

Take care in gratitude! --Vicky :o)

We each get a lifetime . . .

Since I have been housebound because of my broken ankle and subsequent recovery, Michel has been going to the library for me. Sometimes, I give him a list of books to get for me, which he does. But he also surprises me with something else he thinks I might like to read. One of those surprises has been The Sandman, a series of 10 bound volumes of comic books about the Dream Lord and his family, the Endless. I have really enjoyed reading them, and I love the collage artistry of the covers.

In the seventh volume entitled Brief Lives , Death, one of Dream's sisters, comes for a man who has lived for 15,000 years. He is amazed that after such a long life, he is dying as a result of a freak accident.

He says to Death: "But I did okay, didn't I? I mean I got, what, fifteen thousand years. That's pretty good. Isn't it? I lived a pretty long time."

Death (who is portrayed as a warm and charming young woman) responds: "You lived what anybody gets, Bernie. You got a lifetime. No more. No less. You got a lifetime."

(Neil Gaiman, The Sandman No. 43, Nov. 1992, pg. 5)

I have been thinking about Death's response ever since I read this conversation. What she says is reality in these Earth bodies--we get a lifetime. No guarantees how long or how short that lifetime will be, but we all get a lifetime. One morning we will wake up and it will be our last morning, our last day on Earth, our last day in the body we have called our home on Earth.

The idea of a lifetime is a great equalizer: none of us knows the length of our lifetime. We only know we each have been given an Earth "lifetime" to learn our lessons, to discover our spiritual selves, to live our purpose, to love others and ourselves.

What will you do with your lifetime? What will I do with mine? How does that question affect my choices for this day? What if today were my last, what would I do?

That last question is how Paolo Coelho approaches the subject of lifetime. He talks about journeying each day with Death as our "friend and counselor" (The Pilgrimage, page 148). Coelho believes that the awareness of Death need not bring fear but, instead, invites us to view each moment as a time (NOW) that overflows with life:

He [Death] was not going to allow me to put off until tomorrow what I should be enjoying today. He was not going to let me flee from life's battles, and he was going to help me fight the good fight. Never again, ever, was I going to feel ridiculous about doing anything. Because he was there, saying that when he took me in hand to travel with me to other worlds, I should leave behind the greatest sin of all: regret. With the certainty of his presence and the gentleness of his face, I was sure that I was going to drink from the fountain of life. (Paolo Coelho, The Pilgrimage, page 148)

Take care in gratitude! --Vicky :o)

Living life in the Here and Now

“Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans” --John Lennon

This quote by John Lennon has been on my mind a lot lately. I find it coincides with the theme of my last post about accepting what is and living the life I am presented right now rather than longing for an ideal life some time in the future.

For the past year or so, Michel and I have lived a life of changes, which required a lot of adjustments for us to find time together. Here are some examples:

Michel had three different jobs. Two consecutive internships/jobs while he was completing his Cegep program and during the summer. Each was constantly changing his work schedule--sometimes days, other times evenings and weekends, etc. His current position, although providing a more consistent schedule, requires time away for training and some overtime.

The students in Quebec went on strike, which completely changed the school schedule and the timing of Michel's summer internship.

In Spring, I attended a 6-hour per day intensive French-language program for 11 weeks.

We moved to a very different section of Montreal than where we had lived for over 4 years.

We went to California for a kind-of vacation but mostly so I could close out my storage locker (a very big job!) and my bank accounts there because I am a permanent resident of Canada now.

Throughout all these changes, we would tell each other--"As soon as you finish college, our life will feel more normal. As soon as we finish the tasks in California, we can begin to live again. As soon as this or that is over, we can live the life we want to live" The irony, of course, is that during all these changes, we were living. The changes were our life. The normalcy we were looking for was based on some ideal we had in our minds as well as on a comparison to what our life together looked like before these changes started happening. And while we were focusing on the past and the future or (to paraphrase John Lennon)while we were busy making other plans, our life was marching on, our life was happening.

To accept what life is now and to live life here and now takes awareness and effort. Often, I focus on what isn't happening or what I don't have. Having this focus tends to make me ungrateful and a complainer. Much better for me to look at what I do have in my life and appreciate those things. Much better for me to accept the "present" for the gift it is and find the joy in and the enjoyment of Here and Now. Much better for me to live the life experiences I am given instead of missing my life altogether because I am busy making other plans.

Take care in gratitude! --Vicky :o)

Accepting What Is

One of the first lessons I started to learn after I broke my ankle was to accept what had happened and what was happening as a result of the fall. My first instinct was not acceptance, however. My first instinct was to upbraid my clumsiness and to keep thinking back to the moments before the fall and how I could have changed the ultimate result. So, swirling in my mind were questions:

Why didn't we drive to the restaurant with Michel's aunt and uncle?

Why didn't we let his mother drive us instead of insisting on walking the 4 blocks to the restaurant?

Why didn't I allow Michel go back to the house and get the gloves I forgot?

Why didn't I accept Michel's offer to use his gloves?

WHY DID I HAVE TO FALL AND BREAK MY ANKLE?

These questions continued until the next day. At some point, I asked Michel the last one...Why did I have to fall and break my ankle? He said that the fact was I had broken my ankle and that's the way it was. No amount of questioning or replaying scenarios would change the fact. In other words, I could fight against what had happened through these useless mind games or I could accept what happened and live the life that resulted because of what had happened.

This exchange with Michel brought about a real "aha" moment for me. I felt that my eyes were opened and so was my understanding. At the time, I was familiar with Byron Katie's Work about loving what is but now I saw its direct relevance to my life. I realized that all those mind games just made me more and more frustrated. They closed me off to living in the present moment. They created mental exhaustion and stress, which has been proven to have an effect on healing. They focused my attention on the problem of my broken ankle instead of on the possible solutions to aid in its healing.

As I look back on that day, I realize that that "aha" moment has helped me throughout the healing process. In fact, I used it just the other day when I was wishing I could be walking to the store. I kept thinking, "I want to be outside. I want to be walking. I don't want to use my crutches any more. I'm going crazy staying inside all the time." On and on my wild thoughts went, until all of a sudden some different thoughts came through: "Why not be grateful for how well your ankle has healed already? Why not accept that right now this is what is happening in your life? Why not live right now?" Those thoughts stopped the wild ride on which my mind had been flying. Once again, I was centered and accepting of my life and my situation exactly as they were.

This lesson is one that I will learn over and over I'm sure. I strive so hard in my life, and yet all that striving and worrying makes living life less than enjoyable. In this case, though, once I let go of the wild thoughts, I was able to focus on healing and to learn to enjoy the quiet time I had been given. I was able to see and open myself to the lessons that presented themselves as a result of breaking my ankle. I was able to live life the way it was instead of the way I wanted it to be.

Take care in gratitude, Vicky :o)

Let the words fall where they may!

I tried to write a post yesterday but couldn't seem to find exactly what I was trying to communicate. I saved the draft and yet I still had the nagging feeling that what I had written wasn't what I wanted to write, which sounds a little bizarre. ;o)

After I broke my ankle, I made a semi-promise to myself that I will write more--daily is my goal--and my blog is a perfect forum to achieve that goal. I started out well and then felt disappointed and rejected when I realized that only a very few people were actually reading my blog. I worked through those feelings and came to the realization that I'm writing for myself--to explore and clarify my spiritual journey--not for those who may or may not read my blog. That's not to say that what I write won't be helpful to others. After all, we are all walking this Earth-school journey together; we are all students and teachers. However, my writing goal can never be to win the approval of or to impress others.

Yesterday's experience revealed a couple of insights to me: 1. I am still trying to impress my readers. ;o) 2. I'm not allowing the Universe/Source/God to guide me in my writing.

Today, I am making a conscious decision to allow the Universe to guide me, to write what I honestly think, feel, and experience, and to let the words fall where they may!

Take care in gratitude! Vicky :o)

I don't have time or I don't want to?

"Time is a created thing. To say 'I don't have time,' is like saying, 'I don't want to.'"--Lao-Tzu

This quote is one of my favorites. Even though my life now is not as busy as several years ago, when I was working full time and raising three kidlets with my ex-husband, I still find myself saying "I don't have time." The truth is that I always make time to do the things I truly want to do. So, why do I say I don't have the time?

Exercise is one example of this dilemma in my life. There are days when I think, "I don't have time to exercise today. I'll do it tomorrow." The fact is that I do have the time, I just don't want to put out the energy. For some reason, laying down on the mat and doing my series of stomach exercises and lifting free weights just seems like such an enormous task that will take too much time and energy. Ironically, the actual time is about 15 to 20 minutes tops! And, I am pretty sure that procrastinating wastes more energy than actually doing the exercises. What's really going on?

At some level, I think I'm rebelling. There's some societal/parental voice in my head that tells me I should exercise every day. And the minute my inner child hears that edict, she rebels because she really hates being told what to do. ;o) In addition, my inner child looks at exercise as work--well, any type of exercise that is done within the confines of my apartment. Riding my bicycle outside seems much more like play to her than riding my bicycle inside when it is set up on the trainer. Play is much more fun than work!

Even though I can discipline myself to exercise a lot of the time, I think I will never overcome the struggle with my inner child until I can find, feel, or sense the "want to." How to do that is not apparent just yet. Until then, I will continue to use Lao-Tzu's quote to keep me aware of the real meaning of the phrase "I don't have time" not just in the area of exercise but in all areas of my life.

Take care in gratitude, Vicky :o)

Anger: Looking in the mirror of unmet needs

The other day I received a daily inspirational email from Higher Awareness.com (check my list of "Links to Explore"). The subject was anger and this quote drew my attention: "It’s our thinking - our blaming and judgment - that causes the anger. And we blame and judge because we have a need that has not been met." (Emphasis mine.)

Not one to accept ideas at face value, I started thinking back to the recent conflicts that I had had with Michel, conflicts in which I felt angry. As I did so, I realized that behind the anger was a indeed an unmet need. And not just the need to be right! :o) Sometimes, it was the need to be heard or to be believed or to be understood. Examining these needs revealed to me that each is a facet of what I define as love and is part of those "rules/laws" that I have implemented to govern my relationships and my life. (See blog entry about offenses.)

The irony of unmet needs is that I am the only one that can fulfill them! In fact, what the conflict and the subsequent anger indicate is that I'm not taking responsibility for the underlying need! For example, if I am feeling:

The need to be heard--The question for me is: How often do I listen to myself, to the wisdom of my Soul?

The need to be believed--The questions for me are: To what degree do I trust in what I believe is true? How much do I believe in myself, my experience, my feelings?

The need to be understood--The questions for me are: How understanding am I about what is happening in my life? How compassionate am I toward myself?

The need for love--The questions for me are: How am I demonstrating love to myself? How can I show myself more love?

I am a person who hates conflict and angry feelings. This quote shows me that anger is actually a mirror, revealing what I consider the unmet needs in my life. So, I don't need to blame or judge another when my anger surfaces. Instead, conflicts and angry feelings provide an opportunity for me to see my unmet needs, examine them, and take responsibility for them.

Take care in gratitude! --Vicky :o)

"Thank God Almighty. . .I'm Free of Cast!"

Yesterday I got the cast removed from my leg! Thankfully, I am free of that bulky obstacle that made simple tasks such a challenge.

The way one's leg looks after having worn a cast for 5-1/2 weeks is a bit disconcerting. In my case, the skin on my leg and ankle looked all crackled--kind of like a very old oil painting. Michel teased me, saying that I was putting "Vicky dandruff" everywhere because of all the dry and dead skin that was falling off my once hidden extremity. My ankle and lower calf were still quite swollen and the large bruise on the inside of my foot was still there, resplendent with shades of blue, purple, and red. And my first step on that foot was so strange! The bottom of my foot felt numb and stiff, kind of like it had been asleep for the last 5-1/2 weeks! Despite all these changes, I was overjoyed to see my leg and ankle again.

Of course, the healing process is not yet complete. New bone tissue will continue to harden. Over the next months, my body will add more and more bone to where the breaks occurred. Physical therapy will help me restore the strength to my atrophied muscles and a full range of movement to my ankle. Any ligaments that were damaged because of the fall will take additional time to heal, which means my ankle will continue to swell. My skin texture will eventually cease crackling, as the dead and dry skin is replaced by new skin cells. Bruises and redness will disappear. All will be healed and restored in time. What amazing healing machines our bodies are!

So as I embrace this new chapter of my broken ankle saga, I shout with a heart full of appreciation and gratitude:

"Free of cast! Free of cast! Thank God Almighty! I'm free of cast!"

Take care in gratitude--Vicky :o)

P.S.Thanks to Dr. Martin Luther King for his often quoted phrase, which I adapted for my gratitude declaration.

The anatomy of an offense

As so often happens in life, an offense occurred shortly after I wrote my last post. Since I didn't do it at the time, I thought I would take the time now to examine the "anatomy" of that offense by using the questions I talked about in my previous post.

First, here's a description of the offense. I had made a comment to Michel about something or asked him to do something for me. (As so often happens in an offense, the reason it comes about is forgotten!) He said the following to me (as a joke, I found out later): "My name is Vicky. I love to complain." What a reaction those few words caused inside of me! I was angry at Michel for criticizing me because I wasn't complaining at all!

Now, I want to examine this offense through the lens of the questions I posed.

Question #1. What rule/belief did the person violate?
I was not aware I had a rule about complaining, although I am pretty sure that I have had the belief that compaining is BAD for a very long time! I'm sure it is a generational belief--passed from parent to child for all of eternity. I would guess that most people look at complaining as something we should endeavor NOT to do. So what rule did the person violate? Complaining is a bad thing that is not acceptable as part of my personality.

2. For what reason do I have that rule/belief?
As mentioned above, I have that rule/belief because it was passed on to me as a cultural norm or as a proper standard of behavior. Because I am now looking at this belief, I can decide if that rule/belief is one that I want in my life.

3. How important is that rule/belief to me now?
Based on my reaction, this rule/belief was important to me. Now, I'm not so sure. I need to examine this rule/belief more carefully. What exactly is complaining? When is it acceptable to complain? What makes complaining wrong or right? Without looking at these types of questions, I can't determine if this rule/belief is one that is necessary or helpful in my life. Ultimately, this rule/belief creates a judgment situation--either I'm good or bad--which eliminates the possibility of my accepting myself exactly as I am in a given moment and of accepting the situation as it plays out.

4. What particular significance or meaning have I assigned to the person's response?
Ah, the crux of the matter! When Michel said these words to me, I thought he was judging or criticizing me and saying I wasn't a good, nice, wonderful, _________________ (fill in the blank with a positive adjective) person. Isn't it interesting that I assigned my own judgment about complaining to the words that Michel said? There is no way I could know why Michel said what he did without asking him. But as soon as his words were spoken, I immediately felt like he was saying I was bad, bad, bad!

5. How do I know if that significance or meaning is true?
As indicated in the previous answer, I could not know if the significance I gave his words was true WITHOUT ASKING. And to go one step further...even if the significance were true, I get to choose whether I accept his opinion or judgment.

6. What is my choice right now--to be offended or to follow after peace?
By examining the offense, I can actually choose to follow after peace instead of wallowing in the hurt feelings I experienced because of the "supposed" offense. As a result of doing this exercise, I discovered that Michel didn't offend me at all. The offense came in my own mind from my own judgment. All he did was say some words! Isn't that amazing?

Take care in gratitude, Vicky :o)

To be or not to be. . .offended

For the past few days, there has been quite an uproar over some editorial cartoons that were published in Denmark and France depicting the Prophet Mohammed in a derogatory way. These cartoons have offended Muslims and other religious people around the world for their insensivity to and disrespect of people's religious beliefs. On the other side of the debate, of course, is the cartoonists' right to self-expression.

As I thought about the cartoons, the inflamed response to them, and the debate they have caused, I saw parallels in my own life about how often I get offended by the way people interact with me.

The word offend has several definitions. The one most of us think of when we think about being offended is the second entry--"to cause difficulty, discomfort, or injury" or "to cause dislike, anger, or vexation." However, for me the first definition is actually more relevant--"to transgress the moral or divine law: sin" or "to violate a law or rule: do wrong." The fact is when someone offends me, it is usually because they have violated my rules and beliefs about how someone should act toward me or how they should express themselves when they are in relationship with me.

For example, the other day I had an experience with Michel where he changed his tone of voice with me, speaking in what I considered a very condescending way. My reaction was: "He is not allowed to speak with me that way! How dare he! He is not respecting me or our relationship!" Later we discussed the situation and I understood why he spoke the way he did. But the real issue was why did I get offended at all? The answer? Because he violated the rule/belief I have that no one is allowed to speak to me in such a tone, and if a person does, it means that I am less worthy than, not as good as, etc., that person. Without that rule/belief and its corresponding meaning, there would have been no offense.

In reality, I have the choice whether to be offended or not in any situation that comes my way. I am the one who establishes the rules and beliefs that govern my relationships with others. And I assign the meaning to someone's words or actions that results in the offense I experience.

I want to use offenses as an opportunity for understanding and for chipping away that which is not honest and authentic in myself. I want to give others the space and freedom to express themselves without feeling like their thoughts and words somehow violate my rules/beliefs or invalidate who I am.

Here are some questions I plan to use the next time I feel I have been offended.

1. What rule/belief did the person violate?
2. For what reason do I have that rule/belief?
3. How important is that rule/belief to me now?
4. What particular significance or meaning have I assigned to the person's response?
5. How do I know if that significance or meaning is true?
6. What is my choice right now--to be offended or to follow after peace?

After considering these questions, I believe I will be better able to communicate with the other person and express my point of view. Then, instead of disunity and disharmony, there will be an opportunity for unity and growth.

Take care in gratitude! --Vicky :o)

Coming out of hiding: On being vulnerable

If you examine my blog, you will notice that I haven't been very consistent in my postings. I want to share the reason. After I posted in October, a dear friend in California read my blog and told me that my writing revealed a lot about me. Actually, that freaked me out quite a bit! I told Michel (my life partner) that I didn't want to reveal myself to my readers. So I stopped writing.

Recently, though, I was told, both by my higher self/soul and by an astrologer, that I have spent most of my life hiding, and the time had come for me to stop. So writing my blog has become a way for me to open up to myself and to my readers, to be willing to reveal those things I have kept hidden so that I could maintain the facade I have carefully constructed all of my life.

Since breaking my ankle, I have been reading one of Wayne Dyer's books Your Sacred Self: Making the Decision to Be Free. This book has been the perfect companion for me as I have lots of time to read, digest, think, and begin to put into practice what I am reading. Last night I came across this passage on page 204:

What exists within you is not some kind of hideousness that needs to be lied about. There is nothing imperfect about you that requires you to create a whole world of deception in order to make you worthy in the eyes of others. There is a loving presence residing within you. It is as perfect as Michelangelo's David, just waiting for you to allow it to emerge.

Isn't it amazing that many of us have had the idea that if anyone was to truly know us, they would despise or hate us? They would discover how _____________ (put any scary or derogatory term in the blank) we really are! So we spend our lives creating masks that hide the truly marvelous beings we are just so we can be who we think others want or need us to be.

I am determined this year to remove my masks. I have to admit I feel fear typing the previous sentence. That idea of being hideous in the depths of my being is a belief that I am going to have to work on!

Of course coming out of hiding does mean that I will be vulnerable. I looked up the word vulnerable and it comes from a Latin word meaning to wound. When I am vulnerable, I am opening myself to the possiblity of being wounded or hurt by others. However, who or what really gets wounded? I believe my higher self/Soul is incapable of being hurt by another human being or by any experience that happens during my life. My higher self/Soul is sacred, eternal, and unconditionally loving. So when I get wounded or hurt, it really is my ego/false self, that illusion I have created, that suffers pain from the words and actions of others or from the situations life presents. And it is those very hurts that provide me the opportunities to chip away what is unauthentic and dishonest to emerge as my honest and authentic self.

So the choice is mine (as usual): I can continue to create the masks and the illusion of who I want others to believe I am or I can decide to come out of hiding, be vulnerable, and learn to reveal my authentic self. When I consider the first option, I think of the now famous Dr. Phil question--"How's that working for you?" Since my answer is "Not very well!", I choose the second option. After all, what do I have to lose except something that is not and never has been real anyway.

Take care in gratitude!
--Vicky :o)

Happy New Year--with a bang! Part 3

And the saga continues...

Two days before my next doctor's appointment, Michel and I finalized by telephone how I was going to get there. His uncle would indeed be able to take me, which took a lot of pressure off of me. I really could not picture myself going to the doctor's appointment by taxi. I knew I would need help.

I got up very early on the Wednesday morning of my appointment. Michel's uncle, Marcel, said he would be leaving his home early to try to avoid the early morning commute into Montreal. I was ready by 6:30 a.m., sitting by the door telephone in hand. Marcel was going to call when he arrived in Montreal. I waited and waited. Finally he called me at 7:15 a.m. He told me (in French) where he was and asked for more precise directions to our house.

After hanging up with Marcel, I called our landlord who lives in the same tri-plex. The landlord had agreed to take care of the sidewalk for us while Michel was out of town. I called because I was concerned about ice underneath the snow that had fallen the night before. The landlord's wife said he would be over before he left for work to shovel. I mentioned about the ice but she didn't think there was ice under the snow.

Marcel and our landlord arrived at about the same time. I got myself up the stairs (on my behind) and into a chair at the top of the stairs. I got ready to stand up after being reassured by both Michel's uncle and the landlord that the walkway would be safe for me to walk on with crutches. I placed my crutches in what appeared to be a non-snowy/non-icy place. All of a sudden my left crutch (the same side as my cast) started sliding away from me. I was on ice! The heel of my cast hit the ground but fortunately, Marcel was standing next to me and kept me from falling. The landlord and Marcel offered to stand on either side of me while we walking down the walkway, which is maybe 2-feet wide. I knew that this was not a possibility. It was "magic carpet" time.

Marcel got the magic carpet and I maneuvered myself onto it. He proceeded to pull me down the walkway. I then had to back myself into Marcel's car. It was not glamorous but I made it!

We arrived at the hospital for my appointment. We were about 20 minutes early and the waiting room was already filled with people. It was another day of waiting--waiting to have my x-ray taken (almost an hour), waiting for the doctor (15 or 20 minutes), waiting to have my cast replaced (10 minutes). Fortunately, though, my ankle was healing well and the doctor told me that at my next appointment (2 weeks from that day), I would get the cast removed and have an x-ray taken without the cast. If all was well, I wouldn't have to wear the cast any longer. (Yeah!!!)

I went to the cast room for my new cast. I was happy to see my leg and ankle again. In fact, other than some bruising and a little swelling, my leg and ankle looked almost normal. Once I had my new cast put on and my appointment made, we returned home. The landlord had put lots of salt on the walkway so I was able to use my crutches to walk back to the apartment. I am so thankful that Marcel was able to take me that day. He drove for 1-1/2 hours and changed shifts with another person at his work so that he could help me. He was even kind enough to bring me muffins.

I was glad to be home and encouraged to finally see light at the end of the 6-week tunnel of cast, crutches, and confinement. My next appointment is a week away. I'm looking forward to getting out of my cast and reaquainting myself with my leg and ankle. Of course, I realize that it will take time for the bone to heal completely, to build up the muscles in my leg, and to be able to walk without crutches. I am looking forward, though, to being able to walk outside, to go to the market, and to go downtown again. But for now, I need to be patient, to allow my body to heal, and to learn the lessons this experience has presented to me. Future updates to my blog will discuss these lessons.

Take care in gratitude! Vicky :o)

Happy New Year--with a bang! Part 2

This is part 2 of the continuing saga of my broken ankle. ;o)

The following week we went for an appointment at the hospital's fracture clinic. Again, it was a day of waiting! When I finally saw the doctor, she gave me good and bad news. The good news was my ankle bones were well placed so I didn't need surgery. The bad news was that I could not put any weight on the ankle for the entire 6-week healing process! That meant no walking cast.

The idea of not putting any weight on my left foot for 6 weeks was a bit hard to take because in just a few days, Michel was leaving for training in the province of Alberta. I was going to be alone for 12 days and would have to take care of myself and our cat Felicia.

For the next 4 days, Michel was very busy preparing for his departure and equipping me to be able to care for myself. He had to buy enough groceries to last me for the time he was gone. He had to set up the area where we feed Felicia so I could feed her, give her water (a very difficult feat on crutches), and clean the litter box. He made a way for me to be able to water my plants in the sun room. In addition, he had to get all the items he was going to need for 12 days while away from home.

Michel left on January 15. He would return January 28 only to leave again the next day for another training in Ontario. I had to face the fact that I was going to be alone for 16 days total. To be honest, I was scared. Being on crutches made everything more difficult from going to the bathroom to washing my hair to emptying the garbage.

The first few days alone were intense for me. Even though I had books to read and the TV to watch, sitting in bed for hours at a time was uncomfortable. The time seemed to creep by. I would talk to Michel each night for an hour and afterward I would relive my childhood fears of house noises and what those noises could possibly signify.

During these days, I started to really look at my life and how my fearful thoughts were controlling me. I began reading Wayne Dyer's book Your Sacred Self. I also spent time trying to understand what was the purpose behind my falling. There were many people praying for me and sending healing thoughts during this time. My sister and a couple of friends called, which also broke up the monotony of sitting in bed. I am truly grateful for everyone who wrote me, called me, emailed me, and sent healing thoughts and prayers my way!

As the days went by, I became more comfortable with my daily routine. I learned to think ahead when I went from the bedroom to the kitchen and vice versa so that I didn't have to make repeated trips to get items I needed in either location. I learned how to do everyday tasks, like laundry and dishes, while on crutches. Every little success I had encouraged me. And I began to get a glimpse and appreciate what it is like for people who live with physical challenges every single day of their lives.

I still had days of overwhelm and one night I cried for almost an hour while talking with Michel. I was worried about how I would get to my next doctor's appointment. We didn't have a definite plan. In addition, I was concerned about getting out to the car. If there was any ice on our walkway, I wouldn't be able to walk with my crutches. Instead, I would have to use the magic carpet (a piece of plastic with two holes at one end people use for sliding in the snow) and slide on the ground to the car.

The day of the appointment was approaching. Would Michel's uncle be able to take me to the doctor's appointment? Would there be ice on the sidewalk? What would the doctor say about my ankle and how it was healing? These and other questions were swirling through my mind, creating fear and worry.

My broken ankle saga continues tomorrow. ;o)

Happy New Year--with a bang! Part 1

On January 1, 2006, between 5:30 and 6:00 p.m., I broke my ankle. My life partner, Michel, his mom, and I were walking to a restaurant in the town in Quebec where his family lives. I knew the sidewalks were icy, particularly at the corners where the streets and sidewalk met. I had slowed down while crossing the street and as I got to the corner, my left foot found a patch of ice that my eyes had not seen. My foot slid out from under me. As I hit the ground, I heard internally a kind of popping in my left leg. I knew I had hurt myself but thought perhaps I had snapped a tendon or ligament.

As I sat on the ground in some pain, I was very angry at myself for falling. This fall was the culmination of a series of falls that started last April or May. Since that time, I had fallen at least 8 or 9 times. Most of the falls had happened on my bicycle. But two weeks earlier, I had fallen while walking across a street near our home, falling on my right knee and shin. What was all this falling trying to tell me?

As I sat on the ground embarrassed and in pain, several people stopped to ask if I was okay. I knew I had hurt my ankle/leg--the pain told me that--but I didn`t think it was broken so I told everyone I was okay. I just wanted to hide or to be invisible.

One person who stopped was a nurse and asked if I could move my foot. Indeed, I could and she said that my ankle wasn`t broken. I was happy to hear that!

As Michel and I waited for his mother to arrive with the car, I decided to stand up. Somehow with Michel`s help and the help of a street sign pole, I stood up, planting my left foot and pushing up with my right leg to get me to an upright position. Michel`s mother drove us to the bus terminus where we got a taxi for home.

As I sat in the taxi, I could feel my ankle swelling and throbbing. The pain was intense but not unbearable. I just wanted to get home. When we arrived home, we somehow made it into the apartment. That part is kind of a blur to me. Michel ran a bath for me and as I lay in the hot water, I checked over my ankle and leg. My ankle was extremely swollen. So swollen, in fact, it felt like the skin couldn't stretch any further. I also noticed when I touched the outside of my leg, there was some sort of movement inside. Something was moving that never moved before and that didn`t move in my other leg. That was my first inkling that a bone could be broken.

After the bath, I elevated the leg and alternatively used ice and heat for the rest of the night. Michel wrapped the ankle for me, using a pair of pantyhose because someone had borrowed our elastic bandage! I took aspirin for the pain but sleeping that night was extremely difficult.

The next day, after checking the Internet and discovering bad sprains can mask a broken ankle, we decided I should get the ankle x-rayed to make sure it wasn't broken. Michel got me some crutches and an elastic bandage from the local drug store. Then, Michel's aunt and uncle took us to a local hospital's emergency room. The number of people waiting for treatment was unbelievable! I'm sure the fact that January 2 was a holiday affected how many people were waiting at the hospital.

I didn't see the triage nurse until an hour and a half after our arrival. At that point, we had decided to go home and go somewhere else the next day. The nurse checked me over and said if I could move the foot, the ankle was most likely not broken. She also told me the wait was going to be extremely long. (Michel had heard someone talking in the waiting room. The woman said that she had been waiting since 9 a.m. and it was now 4 p.m.!) The nurse thought our idea of going to a clinic the next day made more sense.

So now it was Janaury 3 and we went took a taxi to a clinic near our home that had an x-ray department. Once again we waited. I saw a doctor for about 5 to 10 minutes. He pressed on the ankle and asked me if it hurt and then sent me to radiology. Again we waited and finally I received my x-ray. The doctor checked the x-ray and told me I had broken the ankle on both sides of my leg. Actually, what that meant is that I had broken both the tibia and the fibula! He then gave me a prescription for a cast and told us we would have to go to a hospital emergency room to have the cast put on my ankle!

At that point, Michel rented a car while I waited for him to return to the clinic to get me. We went to the hospital (a different one) and then waited again. Finally, after waiting more than an hour, I got the cast put on, Michel made an orthopedic appointment for the next week, and we were able to go home. However, I was told that I had to return to the hospital the next day for a cast check--to make sure the cast was fitting properly. So we returned to the hospital the next day for the cast check. Fortunately, we didn't have to wait long.

As we returned home, I looked forward to being able to just rest and let my ankle heal. I was encouraged because the emergency room doctor thought I would be in a walking cast (a cast with a heel) in two or so weeks. I did not know then that my healing process was going to play out much differently than the scene I was picturing at that moment.

The saga of my broken ankle continues tomorrow...

Katrina's Tears

Dedicated to all who endured Hurricane Katrina.

In she stormed!
Uninvited, unwelcomed, unwanted!
With wild wrath and furious ferocity,
she tore through their lives
shredding everything she touched
she assaulted them,

their way of life,
their very existence,
stripping them of everything…

Everything…
except their hope,

their dignity,

their spirit,

their resiliency.

Then, she left,

Behind…she left
the chaos of her tears--

flooded streets,

a sea of anger, of broken dreams, of death,

human tears falling from devastated eyes,

a sea of faces who searched Katrina’s tears

for loved ones lost, abandoned, forsaken, misplaced.

And we who watched and felt their anguish,
we, you and me,

who feel safe,

who treasure our way of life.

who cling tightly to our very existence,

who possess everything…

In an eye-blink’s instant,

we realize:

Katrina’s tears have become our own.

© 2005 Vicky Lynn Macchione

The Words We Choose

I was watching Oprah yesterday as she was broadcasting from New Orleans and other cities that were hard hit by hurricane Katerina. Oprah said something that really struck me. She pointed out that the people who remain are not "refugees" but "survivors." Think about the significance of those two words. When I think of refugees, I typically think of people who have had to flee their countries because of war, economic misfortune, or persecution. When I think of survivors, I think of people who have gone through terrible disasters--natural or man made--and have lived to tell their stories.

Because of Oprah's show, I did some research on both words. The word refugee comes from the Old French and originally meant "to take shelter, protect." The meaning changed over time and eventually signified "one fleeing home." Originally, the word survivor was more of a legal term and meant "one who outlives another." As the word evolved, survivor was defined as "one who has the knack for pulling through adversity." I love that definition! (If you are interested in the etymology of words, check out www.etymonline.com.)

Technically, of course, the word refugees can be applied to Katerina's victims. However, for me--and what I think Oprah was trying to communicate to her viewers--describing the people who lived through hurricane Katerina as refugees makes them appear as helpless victims who have little hope of returning to their normal lives. Describing them as survivors calls attention to their strengths, their resourcefulness, their ability to make it through adversity. One word creates a sense of helplessness and hopelessness while the other word creates a sense of empowerment, of hope, of pride. These Americans who have gone through this catastrophic disaster deserve our respect, admiration, and support. They are alive; they are doing the best they can in the worst possible adversity; they are truly survivors!

The words we choose to describe ourselves, situations, and others are powerful. They can create impenetrable prisons or open doors to new possibilities. Prisons or possibilities, which will we choose?

--Vicky :o)

Hidden Masterpieces

I remember reading a book or seeing a documentary about great works of art that had been painted over either by the original artist or another artist for various reasons. Sometimes the original artist didn't like what (s)he had painted. Or, the artist was poor and didn't have money for another canvas. If another artist painted over the work of art, it might be because (s)he was trying to hide the original painting. (I vaguely remember that artists during WWII had painted over works of art to keep them out of the hands of the Nazis.) Or, perhaps the artist didn't know the painting was a great work of art, and (s)he needed a canvas on which to paint.

I am not quite sure how these works of art were discovered but I do know there is an actual profession dedicated to examining and maintaining painted masterpieces and other great works of art. An art conservator examines art objects to determine the condition, need for repair, appropriate method of preservation, and authenticity using x-rays, radiographs, and special lights. In addition, the art conservator knows all there is to know about handling, mounting, care, and storage of art objects. So, I am guessing that an art conservator was probably responsible for bringing these hidden masterpieces to light.

Why this interest in hidden paintings? The other night before I fell asleep I got an image of myself as a famous masterpiece that was hidden under another painting. As I thought about the image, I wondered why I would have "painted over" this masterpiece. I came up with a couple of reasons that parallel the reasons mentioned in the first paragraph. Perhaps I thought I needed to paint a "better" picture because I wasn't satisfied with the masterpiece I already was. Or, perhaps I was trying to hide my masterpiece from the eyes of others, fearing their criticisms.

Upon further reflection, I realized that even though I am the masterpiece, I am also the only one--the only art conservator--who can reveal to the world that hidden masterpiece. I am the expert on the masterpiece that is me!

And so it is with all of us spiritual beings. As we journey through this life, we realize that there are parts of our spiritual selves that we have hidden away, painted over so others cannot see them. We each have reasons for our decision to hide who we really are. However, the fact remains that we are all masterpieces of the Universe. Fortunately, we all have the ability to be our own "art conservator." What steps can you take to examine, clean, preserve, and reveal the hidden masterpiece that is you?

--Vicky :o)

Goodbye Newsletter, Hello Blog!

The Blue Heron Visions Newsletter is going on hiatus for a while (possibly forever)! Instead of a newsletter, I have decided to join the world of bloggers and publish my own blog. This change will encourage me to write more often without having to focus on one particular theme for a monthly/bimonthly newsletter. In addition, I won't be adding to my readers' email box quota with a newsletter that they may not have time to read. (Once or twice a month, I will send an email to my subscription list that indicates there are new posts on my blog and the blog's link.) Blogging will also allow for immediate feedback from my readers. Readers can add comments to the posts they read. Thus, blogging creates an instant forum around any subject about which I write.

So, to all the loyal readers of Blue Heron Visions Newsletter, I want to say, "Thank you!" I have appreciated your feedback and support. And, my hope is that you will find the blog enjoyable, enlightening, and entertaining.

Have a stupendously surprising and serendipitous September!
--Vicky :o)

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