Leisa A. Hammett

Whitney Houston's Death A Reminder of Our Humanity

 

Saturday, much of America apparently perched on their couches and watched Whitney Houston's funeral via television or live-stream internet. The Facebook community was stacked with commentary. Though I'm not a fan of celebrity, I believe in the importance of knowing the pulse of popular culture. And, I admired Houston's flawless beauty and incredible voice.

But, many of the comments emanating from the ethers of Facebook seared my spirit. Our culture is so quick to elevate. So quick to tear down. We deify our celebrities, causing us to forget the reality of their humanity. Blinded by the spotlights and sparkle of fame, we choose to hold them higher than our own selves and also from our media tethered perches, we impose upon them impossible standards. And, then, we crucify them when they fail, all the while forgetting that they are just like ourselves. Human. Vulnerable. Fallible.

I love my alma mater--a small Baptist, East Tennessee college, which, when I attended, had a student body less than 2,000. A former campus minister from those days posted on his Facebook wall a tribute from a D.C.-based Baptist Pastor, Elizabeth Evans Hagan, who pens a blog entitled Preacher on the Plaza. This exceptional young woman, who was born two years before I graduated, wrote in a post published Saturday, "Whitney Houston Took Us to Church." She noted that the televised experience demonstrated how (my words) real church, loving church, can hold space for, among many things:

"Those who have made some bad decisions in their life (i.e. Whitney) being celebrated for the good within them, not the bad because hey, we have all messed up in one way or another! (Who are we to throw stones?)"

I take it a few notches further and choose not to even label her choices "bad" or "messed up." Stay with me here a moment....In the recent events in my own life, culture would clearly entitle me to brandish labels of "messing up" and "bad." Instead, I tongue-in-cheek classify my experiences as "less than optimal choices." For, all our "bad," "the messy," the "less than optimal choices" hold great power to help us  WAKE UP! And CHANGE! To do differently whatever is not working in our lives. Houston had that choice and I do not condemn her for not going there. It appears she had great remorse and that she tried and her decisions were branches in her journey....

In our cultural iconization of celebrity, we forget that like us, they, too, are on a Journey. The. Same. One. As. Us. AKA: Life. And what we all need for ourselves and for our lives is...The "C" word. The biggie. The one of which we have in such short supply in our current culture: COMPASSION.

The loving tributes that resonated with me throughout the week were those that bestowed this compassion. As Spirit Coach and friend Gregory Fisher noted about Houston's interview with Oprah approximately three years back, she got a glimpse of her power if maybe only for a brief while. That power that, again, all of us, as creations of God, have in common--personal, God-given power. Also like myself and so many of us, she also forgot that she had that power within. And you know the rest of her story, which ended in her tragic, premature death. What would the rest of her life had been like if she'd lived on like the greats of her sisterhood, such as Aretha Franklin who graced Houston's funeral? We'll never know.

But...what we can take away are the lessons that in her/our shared frailty, we have a connection to a divine, strengthening source within us. And that, again, compassion--what the world needs--starts from within our own human hearts. Those human hearts that beat together in our global world....Furrowing her brow, leaning over and lowering her voice--meaning serious business--Mother would say to me when I was growing up, "When you point your finger at another there are four pointing right back at 'cha." So, in our rush to judge--which means me, too, here--we forget that we have and that others also have thumping, human, life-blood-coursing hearts that desperately need the resicutation of love, kindess, understanding and compassion.

Thump-thump....

I believe NOTHING. Nothing is ever in vain. Houston left her earthly life of pain for someplace better. Her death, however, holds lessons for those of us who remain behind....

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.

Telling the Truth About Deen's Sugar-Coated Lie

The hoo-la over the diagnosis of the Queen of Fat & Sugar, Culinary Marketing Guru, Paula Deen, with Type-2 diabetes has simmered down a bit in the last week. I guess. At risk of sounding self-righteous: I really don't know because I rarely flick on the boob tube and best I knew, the controversy was never reported on my only news source, NPR. It was the blogosphere that tipped me off to the mean and nasty fest that was broiling over Deen's diagnosis. Talented blogger, special needs dad Rob Rummel-Hudson (Schuyler's Monster: A Father's Journey with His Wordless Daughter) posted on Facebook that making the Savannah-based Diva the butt of jokes was in poor taste. But via local Nashville fitness blogger Dyan of Don't Diet, Live It! that I learned the distasteful back story....

Dis. A. Point. Ing. Very.

From the headlines I expected a reformation. A new movement. I imagined the lives of foodie followers led down the table runner to salvation with Deen seated at the head teaching new math with a division of loaves and fishes and reversing her condition. (It is done. It is possible. I've witnessed it multiple times.) A reformed sugarholic for nearly 25  years now, I was excited, enthusiastic, as I clicked the news link, anxious to savor the details. Maybe this will be a wake up call for America's choice-ridden slide into obesity, I fancied. But. No. The scoop is Deen has known for three years about her diagnosis and sidles up to the public now with the endorsement of Big Pharma--Novo Nordisk-- a company that manufactures injectable diabetes meds. Her two sons, who do not have the diagnosis flank her as company spokespeople....Dialing up the heat of insult, Deen states in all seriousness:

She does not plan to limit her dietary excesses except her propensity for sugar-shocked, Southern tea. Writes "Coach Dyan" who watched Deen perform in a media circus parade, including The Today show: "She does not plan to change her lifestyle or cooking style[....]She said that she, like all other baby boomers, must face the reality of developing diabetes, heart disease, and high cholesterol."

There. Someone said it. Deen vocalized the sentiment of too many Americans. Descending into old, decrepit age, chock full of prescription meds and frequent consultations with allopathic medical doctors is just. The. Way. It. Is. Disease Rules.

Not.

Why am I passionate about this? Am I trying to pick at Paula? No. But I will speak the truth of my experience here. This mentality, as spoken aloud and lived by Deen, is a very real, negative reality in our culture today. But, I have chosen and live and believe in an alternative reality where Choosing Health Wins. As a young post-college adult, I began eating poorly, indulging in fat, excess sugar and fake foods. By my mid-20's, I developed a host of annoying gastric and transfered conditions. My trips to doctors became routine. By the end of that decade I was diagnosed with heavy metal poisoning, chronic intestinal yeast, chemical sensitivities and chronic fatigue syndrome. Eventually I found the ways of Western medicine and synthetic pharmaceuticals made me sicker. I quit listening to standard medicine and went the way of the quack, as our culture considered natural and alternative and diet-based medicine back then. Now? Science has proven those weird ideas...that too many in our culture still consider foreign. In one year I cured my chronic fatigue syndrome and heavy metal poisoning with the help of innovative, open-minded medical doctors in Atlanta, where I was then living. By first changing the content of what I ate, I immediately saw results in my weight, hair, skin and nails. I ate then and now a whole foods-based diet. Real. Food. Fruits. Vegetables. Whole grains. Some dairy and some quality meats. Organic as much as possible and lots of pure water. I have my dark chocolate and I drink wine on occasion. And if I let off the lid my sugar tooth will still rule. So, yes, those who know me have seen me big at the party buffet. The contents of my pantry? As pristine as a health food store.

My journey to whole food led me not only to whole health but to yoga and then to environmentalism because I saw how I ate affected how I treated the earth and in turn the earth's ability to sustain humankind. I learned as my mind cleared and my body cleaned itself from the inside out, that it is difficult to be fully conscious when I crammed fake stuff that my body could not process. And that clarity, slowly over the next couple of decades led me to a wider more inclusive spiritual path. In my experience, one led to the other, all so beautifully connected. I am so grateful for the journey that started with getting sick from a contemporary American diet and has served by body, mind and spirit so well the two ensuing decades.

We do have a choice about our health. And making a choice for optimal health is particularly important if you, like me, are a special needs parent. How can I meet the lifetime demands of my differently abled daughter if I am not preparing my body to sustain the long journey ahead? I do this--I eat pure the majority of time and I excercise regularly first for me and my quality of my Life. And then I do it for Her and any other loved one that may be in my life at a given time. And then, I do it for Us. What our culture is failing to realize is that WE ALL pay when some of us choose the path of disease. All of our costs go up. Preventative medicine via preventive diet, the bountiful foods of Mother Earth, are mighty cheap in comparison.

My Truth: Eat Well. Eat Real. Eat Whole. And do not accept that doctors, disease and decrepitness are the future. You bet the hell I am not. Make that I'm choosing the heaven of living well. Diss Dean and preventable disease and follow the path toward health. Quality lies there.

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What Deen's not taking into consideration with her refusal to change her diet and simply take medication: According to Mayo Clinic those with Type 2 diabetes may feel fine at first in the early stages but complications include: heart and blood vessel disease; nerve, kidney, eye, foot damage; skin and mouth conditions, osteoporosis and Alzheimer's.

Monday Morning Addendum: below, I've added three comments. The longest one shares two aspects of clarification, including more of my recent journey here for greatest authenticity. Thank all you who've visited here already this morning!

Two Current Movies Feature Asperger's

In theaters now, two movies highlight Asperger's syndrome. Viewed last weekend, Joyful Noise, alone, didn't charm enough with it's fun, fabulous music, and tender plot to demand anything other than a blurb on Facebook. But last night's take on Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close wrenched my guts and propelled me to the keyboard...not to mention that's two movies--released in the first month of 2012--both featuring characters with the high-functioning form of autism. (...Screw DSM-V. Details on the controversy on "The Journey with Grace" this Wednesday.)

 

Such an oddball match, it's alluring, Queen Latifah and Dolly Pardon play two deep-in-Georgia matriarchs with big hearts and opposing wills. The music score is riveting and rocking throughout. And hot newcomer Jeremy Jordan is ever easy on the eyes and ears. It's a heart-tugging story of hard times and big hopes. It's a bit cornball and thoroughly Southern. Any guy or gal, like me, that's grown up in an evangelical Protestant church (sshhh, don't tell anyone!) will be time tripped back into Wednesday night choir practice as it it were old home week. It's sweet and tendar and a bit mushy and a depiction of what small-town life might be in the best of circumstances where color doesn't matter nor does quirkiness, of which there is plenty. Not the least of which, in the quirky department, is Queen Latifah's son with Asperger's. A subplot of struggles in both families play out, with love, friendship and music saving the day. Unless your itching to grab a show out, save this feel-good flick for the Netflix list.

 

But the two-plus hours spent last night in a too-warm, packed theater to see Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close was worth every minute. This is one of the most incredible movies I've seen in a long time. The acting was absolutely impeccable. Flawless. Every. Single. Actor....Tom Hanks, Sandra Bullock, John Goodman, Viola Davis (The Help,) Max Von Sydow (who impressively pulls off the role of a mute Holocaust survivor,) and the nine-year-old narrator, who has Asperger's--Thomas Horn. My friend pronounced Horn a child prodigy for his performance. (It's not the first time the young actor won accolades.)

The multi-layered and clever plot, based on the epononmously named 2005 novel by Jonathan Safran Foer is thoroughly engrossing. The tradegy of 9-11 is central to the movie and it painfully picks the scab left on the  American psyche. But, this is not a "9-11 movie." Instead, viewers are swept up in a little boy's Asperger's riddled and angst-ridden search. Metaphor is courses. And, cinematography stuns--especially with the close-ups of the child protagonist.

I'm one of those people who reads the playbill after the play. And, hence, movie reviews after the film. Reviews were a bit dour on Incredibly Loud and Extremely Close. (Blah-blah.) I judge that much like the audience's reaction at the movie's ending. Immediately around my friend and I were a number of twentysomethings who quickly stood up from their seats, as the credits began to roll, and loudly voiced their reactions. They were not parents, most likely. And, too, most likely unaware of the intensity of parental love and the grabbling experience of autism that they'd just witnessed. Yet, other theater goers eagerly appaulded the moment the screen went dark before the roll of actors appeared. Hankies dabbed, loud sniffs and sniffling sounded. And, I shook, literally, with tears at the movie's end. I'm not sure I've every been moved so viscerally by a movie, except maybe Farenheit 9/11, which incited intense anger within me.

So, thumbs up, Hollywood. You got us covered. Twice. Thank you. And for Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, one word. Or, rather one more word: BRILLIANT. (And...one more: bravo!)

*Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close garnered two Academy Award nominations including for Best Picture. Not writing about on "The Journey with Grace," but Meryl Streep delivered her ever-classic and flawless performance on The Iron Lady. That's another one worth catching when out on a winter's eve.

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

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....)

Deal with the Future Now

It happens every January. Like clockwork. The phones of the local Autism Society begin to ring. Frequently. The January Autism Orientation, which I co-lead, has more than it's usual numbers of reservations. It's time, people figure. The holidays are over. It's time to deal.

Deal. Yes, please do. I do not mean my words to sound harsh or to be read as criticism. I am well aware that we all come to this journey via different routes. Early on I was clear that how I dealt with autism was based on my familial upbringing, my education level, my personal growth, my professional skill set and my sense of spirituality--specifically to this situation--where I believe God is in this world and how s/he operates in our reality. Regardless of the paths we take that lead us to the disAbility journey...BAM! Suddenly, ready or not, we're here!

Deal. Deal, please. It had been awhile since I was exposed to what I heard and witnessed a few months back at a seminar about a crucial juncture in the lives of soon-to-be adults with autism. I'd forgotten that some disAbility families suddenly find themselves at a precipice and they aren't ready. They aren't prepared. Since then and many times before I've seen parents shocked to find themselves at crucial transition periods or events in their children's lives that could have been prepared for and would have been less of a shocker. And then there are those who reside in a condo overlooking th' riva, as Husband 2.0 used to say. You, know the River of De-Nile....Reality happens whether we acknowledge it or not. Be prepared. Please.

Tick tock. Don't wait. It's a New Year, friends. Yet, pacing is important. So is doing. Doing and pacing aren't mutually exclusive. And while you're doing at a healthy pace, you're doing for your future and your child's. Don't get caught in the future with nothing or too little left undone. There are resources. You can do it. I know it's hard. I'm there with you. Your future and your child's--my future, my child's--depend on it.

Welcome to January 2012. Deal! I believe in You!