Leisa A. Hammett

Compassion: A Valentine 4 Self; Dr. Kristin Neff

Psychologist Kristin Neff is the mother and wife featured in the book and movie, "The Horse Boy." The movie was reviewed here on "The Journey with Grace." I found Neff's work via a Google search after I first viewed an advance copy of the film. What an incredibly, multi-talented, loving, amazing family.

 

 

 

Recently, I stumbled upon an online interview  about how Neff used her research practices on Self-Compassion for herself when her son was diagnosed with autism.

I love how this journey of autism/disAbility can use our gifts to transform not only ourselves but those around us near and far....

Happy Valentines Day, tomorrow. Love yourself. You are the foundation of your Life, Your Family, Your World. Compassion for others--so needed in our world--starts from Within....

Here's another incredible look at loving and taking care of yourself from the perspective of another special needs, mother. Julie Keon: What I Would Tell You.

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Interestingly, a week ago after walking Radnor Lake I returned to my car to see someone had gifted me two discount sale copies of The Horse Boy. (Who are you? Either you know me or you saw my autism bumper sticker and puzzle magnet...?) I am keeping one copy since you meant for me to have it and will donate the other to our local Autism Society. Thank you!

Passages of Time

 

"The days are long, but the years are short." --Gretchen Rubin, The Happiness Project

 

January 11, 2012...the date entered at the beginning of the morning's journal entry. It caused me pause....As the seasons come around...as the seasons arrive...yet another one is gone...another one is new. I am, once again, struck by the passage of time, as I tend to be when the seasons change--a key marker for the passage of time in my life. Maybe for others, too? It's as if I have a flashback, a quick deja vu. I realize: Oh. My. Another spring?! Another summer?! Another fall?! Another...winter?! Another year has gone by. Here I am again. Anew. A beginning. A chance to begin again. It's humbling in a way. Another year lived. Another sped by. And, here....I am. Now....[And a month has passed since I penned this in my journal.]

Photos, Leisa A. Hammett, copyrighted. I love the austerity of winter, especially as illustrated by bare tree limbs and expansive skies. GrateFULL.

I'm Not Sorry....

It'd been nearly 10 years since I met up with my friend from the small, informal playgroup in which we were both members when our children were babes. Long ago she'd moved to Western North Carolina. When I vacationed in Asheville last summer, we shared a meal downtown. Time had passed, gray peeked through our locks and lines had crept from the corners of our eyes. Our children were grown now, one of hers had jumped from the nest and the other was perched on the edge. A far cry from the diaper swaddled, round-bellied children who lolled about on the floor as their female parents dissected our roles as mothers, wives, women, politics, religion...no topics were left un-discussed by this special, treasured, diverse group who met twice a month in each others' living rooms.

I told my old friend the news of my marriage ending and she began a refrain: "That SUCKS! That SUCKS! That. Just. SUCKS!" She repeated it several times during the download of current events portion of our catchup. I winced each time she said it. I knew it came from a place of love and compassion. She grieved for me, her friend. She knew how I'd left one marriage, bundled my hopes and then entered another almost a decade later. It wasn't supposed to turn out to be this way....Or was it?

After we finished our lunches and hugged each other goodbye I got in touch with the discomfort her words summoned within me. It was my Life. And it didn't and it doesn't suck. Was I disappointed? Hell, yes! I'd lost something that I'd expected. Something Big. But, my Life, despite "the current condition" didn't and doesn't suck. The experience and the Gift of Life is just too precious to let our conditions, many of which we create, mar our perspective--the total picture of The Goodness. The Joy. The Hope. And, The Blessings of Living. They exist, in Real Time amid what we label as heartache, frustrations and our loss of what we expected....

Journaling yesterday morning, I tried to parse out these feelings once again and decided to come here, vulnerable, open, and share them with you. It was here and on the social media venue of Facebook, where "The Journey with Grace" is also posted, that many readers were extremely kind, generous and gracious,  expressing in the comments on both online sites that they were "sorry" when I humbly and authentically shared the news of Divorce 2.0. Again, I knew, I know, the words, the sentiments of "sorry," were and are a sincere, heart-felt attempt from dear, compassionate people grasping for intangible words to communicate that they wished things had turned out differently for me.

But...Sorry? No, I am not. I am not because I know and I see the Great Divine Scheme in how Life works. This doesn't don me with some magical power that others do not have. There are others who also see their lives this way. It is in the teachings of the ancients and the great teachers of the 19th century, which formed  New Thought. But our culture conditions us otherwise. To Blame. To Pity. To proclaim "Woe is Me." Have I had my moments of sorry or woe-ing me? Oh. Yeah. I've hosted a number of pity parties complete with a band. (Grief is Good. It is Real. It is Normal. It is Necessary.) But then I snapped out of it. I took the handlebars and not the sidecar seat because I know that I am the author of my Life. It, this Life,  does not happen to me or others at random. I am not at the mercy and control of a Sky God who wishes me harm and unhappiness. I am a co-creator in this Life of mine. And when my choices are "less than optimal," as I choose to call them, I have the opportunity to mine the Gold in them. And there is Gold. There is Gold in all of Life. I've found Gold in Autism. I have found Gold in Job Loss. I have found Gold in Grief. And I have found Gold in Divorce. (I even believe there is Gold in cancer. Surely you've heard the stories of the jewels found?) I know with all of my heart that I could not have reached this destination of Now and gained the awareness of past influences on my choices without the mining, without plunging to the depths that I have in my Life. And, that I would not reach the Now of tomorrows had I of not gone down deep and learned what I needed to learn. Now the smart thing is to make sure I pave a path with that Gold that directs me to wiser choices that bring me less pain going forward. But it takes a lot more mining.

I've got perpetual helmet hair these days because of all this mining. But, I've no regret for the hard work of shoveling before me.

Sorry? No. GrateFULLness.

Photo: Leisa A. Hammett, my new patio garden. "Begin Again" stone from my all-time favorite catalog, Isabella.

Grace

 

grace n

A favor rendered. 

A[n...] immunity or exemption; a reprieve. 

Divine love and protection bestowed freely [...].

The state of being protected [...].

Suddenly....Life as I'd known it somersaulted up into the air, spinning. Spinning. Landing me. Abruptly. Crashing me down upon my ear. I was no longer a mother choosing to be at home raising my young child. Instead, I found myself creeping along the interstate amid frantic a.m. commutes to Vanderbilt for early intervention. My daughter had just been diagnosed with autism.

Quickly, I checked myself back into therapy. Old baggage, once stowed, jammed into recesses, had suddenly reappeared demanding me to unpack its' contents so I could travel the arduous journey ahead. My therapist then, told me at least twice, if not more, that someday I'd realize why I'd chosen to name my daughter "Grace." She said this so confidently. So compassionately. Smiling knowingly at me each time she told me this. Even after we parted ways, upon meeting up with her a time or two, even years later, she'd say the same thing. The name "Grace" had been chosen more, she implied, than the fact that one of my college best friends had named her oldest daughter "Olivia Grace," and I liked the middle name so much I copycatted. It was more than the fact that I was enamoured with the old fashioned name of old women from my childhood. More than the fact that Susan Dey's character on L.A. Law was affectionately called "Gracie" by her handsome lover. More than the fact that it was the only name my Grace's father and I could agree upon. More, even, than that grace was the single most defining word for what I believed was the essence of God Divine.

Fifteen. That many years later, battle scars inflicted and healed, not one divorce but two laying in the battlefield of my soul. Both parents now departed....At last. I knew. I got it. Grace....I'd named my daughter Grace because grace...was what I needed for myself....

Mercy. Compassion. And...Grace. May I continually drink them deeply. May I own and embrace them fully for myself. May I show them to you and all those who may cross my path. (I'm learning. There's a curve.) I now realize it truly starts with me--with each one of ourselves...manifesting within first and then pouring into the external. May you, too, find these things for yourself and for our world. Just think what could happen....

I am grateful for this grace.

Namaste.

Divorce 2.0

...This is the blog post that once upon a time I dreaded writing. Back last early June when I moved out of the house I shared with Husband 2.0, I dreaded the thought of coming here and posting this very personal and once very painful news. And then, over the months as I began the process of actively healing, the time that I shared it here could not come soon enough. Not all of the dread of sharing this very intimate bit of news here has dissipated. It's just that Life has gone on in many respects and I've been eager to be authentic here with you, my readers. But paperwork and circumstances beyond my control caused a wait of at least five months before my second divorce was final.

Now I'm not proud to say I've been divorced twice. Oh. No. Nor to share it here. I am living testimony of the culture of today. You know, the voyeuristic, tell-all, tweet it, post it on Facebook, blog about it culture. I've engaged in it readily because this is part of my Art. Without regret. Writing is how I express myself. And to be a writer in the thick of contemporary culture, well, online media is where it's at. I shared here about "The Boyfriend" of three years, who became "The Fiance" and then whom I wedded, making him "Husband 2.0." So, in the spirit of authenticity and of closing this painful lesson-chocked chapter of my Life, I'm sharing this news with you--as soon as I could do so officially. Yes, there's been a hell of a lot of inferences here to divorce and something deep and kinda dark going on in my Life since early May. (And then the day after we went to court to stand before the judge, uncontested, I made a passing reference. January 14 marked 90 days, when in the state of Tennessee, a divorce claim, once filed is official, if uncontested.

The essence of my lifestory to this point, the one I aim to share here and in my books is that it is not what happens to you, to us, to me, but how you, we, I, choose to react to it. Hey, Life Happens. Substitute the second word in that sentence if you like. But even then, perception is up to the individual person living it.

I won't write any gory details here. In my moments of negative fantasies--which usually seem to happen in the shower--I'd post shitty stuff on Facebook. But that is not who I am. And that would not serve anyone--me, Husband 2.0, or you--the reader. I know that I get back what I put out. And I want positivity in my Life. And while this divorce is completely different than the one from Grace's father--The Wuzband versus Husband 2.0...hey gotta have some fun with it all, eh?--overall it has been conducted peaceably. And, I still maintain that is so the way to go if at all possible and I believe it is possible more often than not.

If you've really grasped the essence of what I write about here, what threads through my posts about Life and disAbility again and again, you know that I value a sense of personal Spirituality. That I believe Life is Good. Maybe I've not been so clear that I also believe that there are no mistakes. Okay, I'll concede... maybe...sometimes..."less than optimal choices." But there's that Choice word. And then there's the Perfect word. Something I write about a lot in regards to my daughter with autism. What if it's all Good? What if it's all Divinely Perfect? Perfectly Imperfect? I do believe it is....

The last year-plus was one hell of year.  I turned 50. I remarried. I turned 51, I got divorced again. And in the process, a very integral part of this picture, which I have written about frankly, my last remaining parent died. As I wrote here and here, I could not see some of the patterns that I had unconsciously created in my Life until my father died. His death was a HUGE wake up call. And, I believe that Life gives us those calls and they get louder and LOUDER until we really, really hear them. Until we "come to" and listen.

I believe that sometimes painful things in our Life have to come about to propel us on to our Greatest Good. I'm propelling. Very much so. And I look forward to sharing with you where I am going.  Stay Tuned. I'm wincing now and then, but I'm excited about my New Life ahead. 2012, bring 'er on!

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As of midnight Sunday, I have eliminated the "Journey with Grace" blog category "Marriage 2.0." This is a personal decision I've reached after much thought. None of the posts in that category will disappear from this blog as they were placed in one or more categories upon their creation. 

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"Disappointment to a noble soul is what cold water is to burning metal; it strengthens, tempers, intensifies, but never destroys it."--from Eliza Tabor

Coffee, Tea or...Not-So-Perfect Entertaining

"Enough is abundance to the wise." ~ Euripides

Growing up, our house was frequently full of company. Sunday nights after church, mother served cake and coffee to a slew of lively conversing adults who swarmed around the kitchen table. She hosted a share of parties for my friends, too. Elementary school treasure hunts in my uncle's lakeside pasture behind our Carolina home. Wiener roasts for the church youth group. Mother, when she was still living, used to say that I was the only one of us siblings who carried on the tradition. And I do! I love to entertain.

This post has been swimming through my brain tunnels for about two years now. It was about two years ago when I realized that I'd reached a juncture in my entertaining: No longer did I have to do it perfectly. No longer did I demand perfection of myself, my house, my food. Whew! It was a bit of an onion peeling process, really. Long ditched were the days that everything had to be made from scratch by me. Or that it must be all organic. Gone, the days I refused to entertain if my pad were not perfect. As I prepared to host a group of area bloggers, I surveyed the nooks and crannies of my home at a distance and concluded: Eh. The art was not in perfect but my willingness to say yes and be a hostess, no matter how imperfect. I figured the nooks and crannies of imperfection were just not important and if someone deemed them so, then that was their deal. I've hosted more gatherings than I care to count in my new condo. My guests have dined in full view of the unpacked boxes stuffing my laundry room. Eh.

Really, its so easy to entertain, and yet, so many do not. And you know what? When I go into someone's home and it's not perfect...there's clutter, dust, etc....I admire them for their authenticity amid their desire to entertain! It's about the people, not about seeming perfect. So, perfect? Bah, humbug!

These days, on a tightened budget, I have CORN. "Clean Out the Refrigerator Night" with my closet friends. I also keep staples on hand so there's always something to pull out to nibble upon and a bottle of vino waiting to be uncorked. (Mother would not approve of the beverage, of course. Afterall, we were Baptists....Back then.) I do hold to the Alexandria Stoddard standard (Living a Beautiful Life,) for even these simple gatherings. Go ahead: pull out the pretty stuff, the dishes, the silver, the crystal and delight and dine in and on their beauty. It makes it all more entertaining, visual and fun....And, as I've done so many times since moving into my condo, I host "potluck noshes." I send out an invite--a plain ol' all-text email or Facebook private message. I'll offer out some main dish that I'll prepare and let my friends and acquaintances, eager simply for the chance to unite, decide what they'll bring to add to our buffet.

Works out perfect. Everytime. Make that: imperfectly perfect.

Image: Chattanooga riverboat hotel, crystal lamp, 2010, Leisa A. Hammett, Nikkon CoolPix, copyrighted

Teamwork

Swiftly, we entered my condo and like seasoned professionals began a triage of sorts. Instead of doctors, it was The Wuzband and I and the patient was our 17-year-old daughter with autism. She'd just had oral surgery to remove her wisdom teeth. I pulled out old beach towels and spread them under and on top of the covers, while he supervised her toileting from outside the bathroom. I ran cool water onto washcloths, wrung them, rolled ice cubes into them and tucked them within plastic bags before stowing  them in the freezer. Soon, our subject, too, was out cold.

It occurred to me how smoothly we assumed our positions, her father and I. A team. Our post divorce relationship has never fit the stereotype society wants us to believe of two warring parents. Nashville's leading special needs trust attorney once told me that she'd seen a lot of parents like us. That somehow, when there was a special needs child involved, the mother and the father seemed to get it right. The only true reference I have for that is our own experience. And, from what friends in and outside of the disAbility community say, we are exemplary. (I am currently learning about "Conscious Uncoupling" and may share more here on the blog at some point, perhaps soon. In 2010, I wrote on "The Journey with Grace" about Spiritual Divorce.)

All I know is that before the judge raised the hammer from her desk and declared "Divorced" from The Wuzband, I'd gotten clear that what we disagreed upon when we were married would never be agreed upon as divorced parents. Leave old well enough alone and start anew. I remember the day, where I stood and the approximate time when I raised my hand in the form of "Stop!" and nonverbally made this declaration to myself and to him.

So, we work together as a team now whereas we didn't so well before. We triage in times of surgery (there have been several,) and in our weekly passing of the small torch we lit together--the one who will always burn brightly in both our hearts.

You, see, when parents become embittered, spitting poisons at one another as "ex-es" or soon-to-be, they've got it all wrong. While they may wish to punish the one to whom they once said, "I Do," they hurt most the small ones who still need their love. I say: Grow up! Act your age! You're a parent! You've got a charge who does not disappear once the divorce papers are signed. Agree to disagree and then love that/those child(ren) and make them priority.  You may no longer love the other parent, but do the right thing by that child whom the two of you brought forth into this world and whom would not be here on this earth if you had not once upon a time, even for a few moments, loved one another.

The teamwork, when it comes to parenting, continues whether you're married or not. And in the case of "special children," that teamwork is often going to continue long past age 18. It will continue until you each breathe your last breath. Make it work. Life will be easier. You will be blessed for doing the right thing.

The jewel, the evidence, in my memory that we had a special thing--The Wuzband and I--was when my mother died three years ago. The Wuzband, left work, drove up from Birmingham and picked up our daughter. I drove to South Carolina to be with my family. My then boyfriend drove down a few days later and The Wuzband drove Grace up from Alabama. (Complex maneuvering and coordination is the sub-story of my Life.) The Boyfriend and The Wuzband later rode together to my sister's house from the church after the funeral. Together, all of us, as a family, dined on funeral fare that afternoon. And long after we put down our forks and spoons and licked our chops, The Wuzband, who was a member of our family for nearly two decades, stayed and visited with my family.

That is called Peaceful Parenting. Peaceful Divorce. It's doable. If you find yourself at the threshold of Divorce...as too many find themselves at the precipice of a New Year--just do it. Do it Right. Do it for the children. Years down the road, you'll be so glad you did. I believe in You.

Launching 2012: New Year's Traditions

There's the standard fare of black-eyed peas (the edible version you stir in a pot) and greens. Opening and closing a door to let out the old, jumping from a perch at midnight to leap into the new....And while I usually incorporate those fun things into the dawn of my new year traditions, I also incorporate two others.

Burning bowl, Leisa A.Hammett

I was in my late 20s, living in Atlanta, when I first heard about The Burning Bowl ceremony observed by Unity churches across the country. But it was a decade-and-half later, in 2003, before I attended my first and have continued almost every year since then. In essence, you write down all the things in your life you wish to discard and be done with and then you burn that list. At Unity of Nashville, burning bowl service,  attendees then write a letter to themselves as if it were the end of the year, congratulating themselves for all the things they have manifested in their lives. The church mails the letter in the self-addressed envelope at the end of the year and it is amazing to see what the spirit of intention can manifest. This year's service was done more Taize style and I found it to the most moving burning bowl service I had attended. Maybe it was in part that I was so ready to release and start anew. I left feeling purged and cleansed.

II felt the same at the end of Sunday, when I created a trilogy of vision boards to manifest three main things in my life this coming year. In 2007, a climatic year in my life, I created my first vision board. Before I even pasted down the image of New York City I felt compelled to place into my career section, something incredible happened....Every year since I've either attended an artist friend's vision board party or created my own alone. This year I hosted a small gathering of friends in my home. Between clipping, pasting and arranging, we sipped mimosas and fed our souls with friendship and steaming bowls of black-eyed peas and chopped kale. I generally "feng shui" mine, clustering certain things I wish to manifest in my life into certain areas on the poster board. Again, I have been amazed that often up to nearly 90 percent of what I intend to create, big and small, manifests. It's about the power of intention, of creative thought, of Believing. I generally put mine in my kitchen in a very visible spot, such as the cupboard next to the fridge where I reach for my drinking glasses so that each time it is in my visual field, I either consciously or unconsciously am reminded about what it is that I am choosing to create. My goals have ranged from love relationships, travel, things for my daughter, career achievements, small material items, etc. 

However you mark the beginning of this New Year, I wish it to be full of Peace, Joy, Love, Happiness and Abundance for you. I'd love to hear your traditions here in the blog comments! 2012 is going to be phenomenal! I'm convinced!

"I Dare to Imagine the Dream" A New Year's Prayer

Western Lake, Grayton Beach, Fla., Fall 2009, copyright: Leisa A. Hammett

"I am aware, there is but One Life, I am this field of creative potential in all Its' power, glory and possibility.

"I accept there is always a way to greater good. I act like it, think like it, imagine it and behave like it.

"I anticipate what it feels like to achieve my desired outcome that blesses all. I dare to imagine the dream God has given me as really being so. I take the time each day to picture it as I know it can be, eager to be a lover to life. I do this with great love, joy and deep appreciation to Spirit that it is so. And so it is."

--Dr. Mitch Johnson, Center for Spiritual Living Nashville, 1.25.09

(This prayer-post has appeared the two previous New Year's. Here's last year's and can't seem to locate the other....)

Three Friends: A Shared Tapestry of Life

Pandora played carols quietly in the background. Cider simmered wisps of cinnamon and clove into the atmosphere. With our fingers, we broke and ate chunks of warm, moist gingerbread. It had been about Christmastime last that we three had met like this. Only last time we met in the new 3,300 square-foot home I shared with my husband. And this year, we met in the 1,200 square foot rented condo I was sharing with just my daughter.

We took turns swapping stories, updating each other on our lives. A tremendous creative endeavor had united us two years earlier. One of us was 60something; myself, 50something and one of us still 40something. To the team, we'd each brought a creative discipline and created something grand. One of us was a grandfather. With swiftly moving fingers, he summoned pictures and videos on his phone. I shared about Grace's art and the other told us about her teenager's creative venture. We shared about how our lives had moved on, what projects we were pursuing or not pursuing, and what exciting projects we planned to pursue next in the creative arena of our work lives.

One of us had house woes, another car woes, more than one of us had family members with chronic conditions and one of us with some of their own. And I was leaving a marriage that I had thought held such promise. Our stories of Joy, of challenge, of woe, of mundane and brimming activity and commitment wove a tapestry of a year's time in our lives. We smiled, laughed and celebrated the tender and the victories. Our hearts winced at the challenges--our own and each other's.

As we parted with one more thread of our lives quickly woven into the tapestry of our stories I thought about what we'd each shared. The weight of it all. There was some sorrow. Some pain. Some heartache. But, we each bore it. If there was spilled milk, we had each wiped our tears and moved on. And as we stood outside my wooden patio gate, exchanging our goodbyes and holiday wishes, I thought: "This is Life. In each our shared stories, this is the tapestry of Life--woe, challenge, Victory, Joy. "*Rinse. Repeat. Move on...."

*Of course, I do not mean to imply that in the minutiae of Life it is this easy. And ideally we each work through these circumstances, processing it, learning from it, healing through it. The point it that we recognize all that is Good and Beautiful and despite challenges Celebrate and Live Life Fully.

**The above photo, copyright, Leisa A. Hammett, was first seen on "The Journey with Grace" in May, 2010 in the post: "Sandwich Shoppe Catharsis Between Strangers."