Sacred Play and Imaginary Escapes - Thriving in our New Normal

 

“Hope things go back to normal soon.”

That was the text I received from a friend yesterday. It struck me in reading those words that I have stopped thinking or worrying about the end of the pandemic. In those first months, absolutely. Daily thoughts of getting back to normal life.

Now, out of self-preservation and a renewed sense of life’s sacredness, I have turned to making the most of each day, not wasting a moment of living spending time trying to beg normal to reappear.

My response was simply, “Yep! But let’s make the most of each day until then.”

And in that spirit, I want to share two stories that remind us to find joy, creativity, sacred play, even imaginary escape as tools for thriving in our new normal. Enjoy.

The Teacher Has Arrived

Our house is a weird place these days. We don’t own a TV, our children don’t have phones, and we are as close to screen-free as a modern day family could be. But now? Now, we are 5 people zoomed in to our classes and work, zoned out from each other and the world beyond our 48 square inches of screen space. We have a 7^th, 4^th and 1^st grader and all of them have adapted well to this online life.

Our 2 year-old Sihasin has taken in this sudden change, and it is interesting to see her interpretation of this virtual world. “Dad, do you have another meeting?” she will ask the second I open my computer. “Dad, are you going to your office?” anytime she senses that I am about to start a work session. “Office”, as she has figured out, is a very loose term and could apply to garage, porch, kitchen, living room, etc. “Office dress”, as she and her siblings have observed, ranges from tank tops to running shirts to sleepwear to an occasional collared shirt.

Well, Sihasin voiced that she wanted to go to school just like everyone else. She was feeling left out, not having a screen of her own to stare into. So Nizhoni, our oldest devised a plan. On times when she was not in school, she would sneak upstairs, put on a disguise, and become the teacher for Sihasin. Let me explain that “disguise” in this context means simply changing 1-2 things about appearance. I asked Nizhoni if she uses a different voice as teacher, and she gave me a look. “Dad, that really isn’t necessary. I use my normal voice and I still don’t think she knows it is me.”

Action shot of little one at "school" with Ms. B

So, Teacher Nizhoni broadcasts from upstairs to Student Sihasin who we get onto a tablet downstairs. Teacher Nizhoni goes by "Miss B" and gives her choices – “Do you want to do music or dance today?”. Usually, the class is quite short as Student Sihasin loses interest and simply walks away from the screen. No “good bye” or “I have to go now” but just a departure to signal that this class session has ended. Teacher Nizhoni is quite understanding.

Pics of, in order of appearance, Teacher Nizhoni and (Regular) Nizhoni

 

A Breathe of Fresh Air is All We Need

We were a tired group of physicians, immersed in sickness, loneliness, COVIDness as we cared for patients at UNM Hospital. The week had worn us down, taking out our zip and pep and replaced it with “argghhh”. I think someone mentioned something about fresh air in a figurative sense, but I suddenly realized that real fresh air was exactly the antidote. With inertia of hospital work and an indoor existence the entire week working against us, I was able to coax everyone to come outside with me. I had tried multiple times previously in the week to get us outside, failing each time. Intertia and a huge work load will do that. This time, I think the combination of me using my best attempt at an authoritative voice plus the presence of “argghhh” made the group start to warm up to the idea of a few minutes outside.

We found a nice place of shade on a beautiful late May afternoon and suddenly we were transformed. The grass felt so good, so real. The hospital walls now dissolved, we were free in mind and spirit. Free from work. Free from the burden of so much hardship that was our patients’ reality. Free from ourselves. Spontaneously, the crew starting talking about how incredible it felt to be outside. How it surprised them how quickly they felt rejuvenated by shade, breeze, birds, grass and all that now embraced our senses.

The power of fresh air and simple escapes. From “argghhh” to this pic below in a matter of minutes.

 

May you find joy, creativity, sacred play, even imaginary escape as tools for thriving in our new normal. Practice daily. Titrate dose upward if needed. Enjoy the silly moments along the way.

Going to a special place...

This week’s piece is a chance for you to create space for yourself, maybe here at the end of a long week and maybe on a Monday morning when you see this.

You will need a few items for this exercise – do not pass GO if you have not collected the following:   

Ten minutes for yourself

A piece of paper

One of your favorite writing utensils

We are going to start with a meditation, and you can choose to do this either by reading the script below or by listening to the meditation below. Big choice. Go with your gut on this one.

Meditation - audio version

https://youtu.be/wdr3yt5KOwQ

Meditation - written version

Find a nice space, indoor or outdoor and get into a comfortable position, one free of pain.

If possible, find a position where your feet are on the floor, where you are sitting tall, extending each of those vertebrae to their greatest height. Let those vertebrae breathe life into your body!

Once you have the position that feels good, just sit with that for a minute. Start to slow down the mind as the heart and your emotional/spiritual self takes over command of the ship.

Now, in a completely different place than you were a few minutes ago, you are ready for a journey.

Take some nice, slow, deep, rejuvenating breaths.

Air in, deep into the recesses of those lungs, into the abdomen.

Air out, expelling all that does not serve.

Take as much time as you need here, enjoying the state of being, the state of breathing.. This is your time, and no one is rushing you through it.

Smile, and relax those face muscles. Smile at life, smile at the moment, smile at something that has made you smile earlier today. Smile at all of your loved ones.

Now, with eyes gently closing, take yourself to a special place, a place that you have not been able to visit because of the pandemic. Take yourself to that place right now. Smell the fragrances this place brings to mind. Touch the things around you. Listen to the noises of this special place. Feel the energy around you. Sit with this and enjoy being and breathing in this special place for a minute or two.

Let’s invite one person to enjoy this space with you. Maybe a person who, like this special place, you have not been able to see due to the pandemic. Or maybe someone that comes to mind when you think of this special place.

Invite them to join you. If you are at a beach, they are not sitting beside you in the soft sand. If you are hiking a forest or a favorite trail, they walk in stride with you. If you are in a place of prayer or meditation, they are praying/meditating next to you.

Enjoy this person’s warmth and presence, as you both soak in this special moment together.

Take your time here. This is your time and the clock has stopped ticking. Your heart is now the only beat of time present, and it is set to “timeless” mode.

When you are ready, a few more deep, rejuvenating breaths and then open those 2 eyes to join the 3^rd eye that is wide open at this point.

Paper and favorite writing utensil in hand, you are now going to write a hand-written letter to that person who joined you in the meditation. You are filled with healing energy and the writing itself is furthering your healing. There is something about writing on paper that reveals ourselves in a way that typing onto a phone or computer simply cannot. As you write, think of how this letter is going to brighten the person’s day. Think of how you are going to deliver it. Write in joy! Deliver the letter within the next week.

Repeat as needed.

After posting this piece, Veronica Hutchison, an amazing mentee of mine, writes the following along with the picture above: "Just listened to your newest Writing to Heal meditation. I found this funky envelope that I made at a "self care" Native Health Initiative event. Perfect for this letter!"

In the dark no more...

As a healer who has been doing my work in the dark, blind in a sense, today was a big day.

The visit was scheduled, not as a phone visit but as my first Zoom visit since the pandemic began 150 days ago. Usually, I see about 30 patients in-person a week. During the 5 months of COVID, I have seen about 30 patients in-person total, with the remainder conducted entirely by phone.

For someone who values that sacred space where the exam room creates a space where all other worries and commitments cease to matter for those 20 minutes, the only commitment being presence, this has been a big change. Put more bluntly – it has been really hard for me. I am sure most of the patients and providers of the world feel similarly.

That sacred space is now replaced by a phone call with interruptions and multi-tasking, my kids often seeking daddy’s attention as I sit in my home office (e.g. living room couch). Not being able to see people in these visits during COVID further dehumanizes the time together.

I signed on, not believing this was happening, but hoping I wasn’t about to hear an alarm clock that would wake me from a pleasant dream.

In a touch-less, 6 feet apart, face-covered-with-masks reality, I was about to get closer to the people I work with as a physician, the people who teach me about healing.

I hoped this would re-create the sacred space I have been so missing.

When the visit started, Ms. Armijo (name changed to protect patient confidentiality) couldn’t get the visual aspect on her tablet to work.

“Geez. I knew this was too good to be true,” I mumbled to myself. I think it was just life’s way of building the suspense, doing what all movie directors and novelists do so well. Make ‘em wait for the good stuff.

Then suddenly she was there, smiling at me. And I was able to smile back. No facemasks to spoil the moment!

I really did not expect the rush of emotions that rushed and gushed in those next moments. 

Here’s a decent recap of them put into words:

Wow!

I can’t believe this! I can see her and she can see me.

When I say, “I am really glad to have the chance to see you for this visit,” I won’t have to make a silly joke about what “see” means anymore.

I knew I was missing something big these last months, but wow, I didn’t realize how much the human connection was lost in these phone call visits.

Warmth. Connection. Healing.

Healing of a great chasm created by 5 months of practicing medicine blindfolded.

Sacred space

Wow!

In that visit, and in the few I have done since then, I take time to ask the person to show me something about their life that I would never get to see, never be able to fully appreciate if the visit was done in a clinic.

Ms. Armijo chose to show me her service dog that has been such a big part of her healing journey. I licked the screen, an appropriate dog greeting. In exchange, I share something on my end – the garden, a picture, etc. Two humans just trying to find real connection in a virtual world.

Appreciate these small moments today, tomorrow and next week. Those moments where the sacred spaces in your life suddenly return. Maybe not in quite the same form as they would have pre-pandemic, but good enough to make your heart skip a beat, for gratitude to grow.

Reminding us all that the sacred spaces are still much closer to us than we think or see when in the dark. May light similarly shine your way today! May your own light be the illumination.

Of Tree Lines and Tolerance

 

We climbed and climbed. Endless “up” it seemed.

Finally, we got to a place with vistas endless. 360 degrees doesn’t quite do it justice.

Christian, my running buddy and a professional trail runner, had brought me to Penitente Peak in the Santa Fe Mountains, 12,200 above sea level.

Our conversation over the first hours of the run had prepared us well for this peak. In fact, we talked about the Islamic tradition that talks about nature’s beauty as the first tier of heaven.

Well, we had arrived in a place that inspired nothing short of otherworldly splendor.

Being an animal not used to such heights, I stared at the bare faces of the mountains at our eye level. Beneath that nakedness, pinons and spruce trees.

I had never climbed high enough to see what the “tree line” really was. I was now here.

I stared for a moment, confused a bit as I saw a clump of trees very much making a wavy line at best. Gone were my notions that the tree line would bring me back to high school geometry, a straight line connecting two points. Gone was my conceptualization of a belt that the mountain would wear around its waist, somewhere around 11,000 feet high.

    

I think Christian saw my look of surprise as I squinted to make sure I was seeing it all correctly.

“What was the tree line’s teaching for me?” I thought as we began our descent.

My mind, and I assume most of ours, wants to see this world in a very straight-line way. Trees either grow or they don’t, with a nice geometry-teacher-approved-line separating the two realities.

Tolerance requires us to see the trees for how they actually are, even if it jars us from a cemented belief not based in reality. Much more messy, akin to a 4 year old with a paintbrush in her hand as opposed to a ruler-drawn line.

Tolerance is a mindset that appreciates and looks for the nuances that make people who they are, seeking to understand their perspective, affirming their humanity and their right to think and behave differently.

It is a heartset that assumes commonality despite outward differences toward things we care about passionately like climate change, racism, or our best choice for president of the country. That commonality becomes the basis for tolerance, listening, and being open to change ourselves.

I did some reading on tree lines. Yes, they can be well-defined, but they are often a gradual transition. Trees grow shorter and more sparsely before gradually decreasing to an area with no trees. And depending on how the sun hits and where the water runs, the tree line likely differs in altitude even within a single mountain. There can even be a double tree line, with bristlecone pine trees growing far above the tree line for pinon and juniper trees on the same face of the same mountain. Add in the effects of latitude and you see that a tree line ranges from 0 ft elevation in areas of Northern Quebec to 17,000 ft in the Andes of Bolivia.

Tree lines are much more dynamic and wavy and unpredictable than we thought, huh?

I am thankful for this first glimpse of a tree line, thankful Christian brought me to such heights.  In seeing it with my own eyes, I find a place for tolerance to replace a rigid notion of what is that I had carried into that run.

Maybe we just came up with a corollary (remember those from geometry??) about seeing the forest for the trees.

It is seeing the tree line for what it is – not a line at all.

It is seeing each other as clumps and groves with our unique way of being, beautiful growths within a 4-year old’s painting, more human and more unified than our politics or media leads us to think.

 

Renewal

Renewal
Even with 2020 vision
it often evades sight
blinded by our hurt and despair

Renewal
is that precious flower that found crack in endless concrete
is that honey produced by our bee relatives from nectar source sour
is that child who "makes it out" in a system designed to keep her locked up, trapped in

Renewal
hit me like a torrential monsoon rain
Creator's Tears
washing away 
my fears 
that downtown ABQ would stay in its
plywood plight
a reminder of an already struggling not-so-iconic Rte 66
mix 
of 
brothers and sisters discarded
businesses pandemiced
and cries for justice 

That was b4 the paint brushes, the Krylon
that smoothed over
plywood plight
doubt
fear
shame
wounds worn heavy like jeans in the rain

Paint for Peace, they call it
renewal through hope's tints, colors, hues,
brushing
dignity
pride
love
unity
back onto the canvas

Author's note: There was plywood to cover the broken windows in downtown ABQ, an eyesore for an already struggling downtown. Well, a group of artists calling the project "Paint for Peace" decided to use that same plywood to beautify downtown with messages of hope, inspiration, love, unity. The pics shown here are part of this project. Go down and see it for yourself! The Alibi did an article on Paint for Peace - click here.

Kindness (aka Love for Community Part 2: The Nehemiah Cionelo story)

Kindness.

Have you noticed it around us these last months, often in bigger ways and larger doses than normal?

Think back to March/April when this was all starting. The acts of kindness that sprouted up like beautiful flowers that had been below the surface just waiting to break ground were right in our neighborhoods.

What random acts of kindness do you remember noticing in your neighborhood, in your life? 

Call those to mind right now. I promise, it will be good for you.

One day, at our mailbox, 4 ladybug rocks showed up. I still don’t know the gifter and maybe that was the idea of the surprise. Did they know we had 4 children? Did they think about us specifically or was it a spontaneous act of kindness?

I looked down the street to see a young lady who had decorated her family’s trashcans to let the workers know how much they are appreciated.

I noticed the makeshift signs and art on the trails I run, people going out of their way to share their love.

I paid attention to the neighbor’s sign “Silence is violence” among the other signs affirming human dignity for all persons.

Kindness is one of the mechanisms for us healing in this moment, turning from politicized battles over mask-wearing, the latest depressing updates on the economy, and doomsday predictions to instead seeing the ways that our neighbors are being changed for the better by the pandemic. And if we pay attention to those ways that others are being changed, kindness becomes the change within.

In this blogosphere space, I had thought about how to elevate kindness, especially in seeing its absence in the stories and media I see in the pandemic.

Well, a few weeks ago I share the story of Emelia Pino and her service out of the love of her community of Zia Pueblo. Looking back, it was kindness finding its way into this blog before 

I realized what had happened.

And now, I am gifted with another kindness story to tell.

Hi Coach Fleg!

I hope you and your family are healthy and well right now. 

I really would like to help out the community amidst what going on right now and I've been brainstorming how for a while. I understand food banks are under a lot of strain right now so I came up with the outlined fundraiser to help them out. Essentially, during a 12 hour period, I would try to run as many miles as I could. In turn, people would pledge to donate something like 25¢ for each of those miles. At the end of the day, the money raised would be able to go to some of Albuquerque's food banks.

This was how Nehemiah Cionelo (who goes by the name Nemo) pitched his idea to me in May, an idea to use his legs as a collegiate athlete for something much bigger than race awards. He had a name for the event, Footsteps for Families.

His motivation for this?

He shared that as a child in a big family where at times they barely got by, he could relate to what families like his must be dealing with in the pandemic.

“I wonder about if I were born 5 years later and were a teenager right now, what struggle I would be going through. Would I get any back to school supplies, for instance?” he commented.

Nemo with his siblings Moriah, Celeb, Gideon and Tabitha and Moriah's son Zyden

The kindness in this case actually didn’t completely surprise me. I have known this young man for close to a decade and he is one of those people who can achieve big things but never lose their humility and sense of belonging to a larger community.

Nemo’s kindness has been a part of my daily life for the last weeks, and I am thankful for the 13-mile "running meeting" where we came up with the school supplies drive idea, text conversations, email and phone communication. Each and every one of them was kindness being poured into my life, me as the student listening to Nemo, my teacher.

This Saturday I will proudly lace up the shoes to run some miles with him as we work to generate 1,000 miles over a 12 hour period, hoping to raise $10,000 for local families in need.

And I always believe that kindness is something to be shared and spread, so here is your chance to be involved in Footsteps for Families this Saturday, July 18^th! (See below)

Notice kindness. 

     Generate kindness. 

             Spread it freely, my brothers and sisters.

Footsteps for Families

Sat, July 18th 

12 hours (7am - 7pm)

1,000 miles

$10,000 raised for youth and families in need

4 Ways you Can Support Footsteps for Families

1) Donate back to school supplies - you can drop them off at UNM's Johnson Field on the 18th, 7-9am. We will also collect school supplies the next 3 Thursdays at the NHI office, 3-5pm (see flyer below)

2) You can log the miles you and your family do on 7/18, helping us reach our goal of 1,000 miles  https://forms.gle/UNaViv51PhR4bhpm6

3) You can make a tax-deductible contribution through NHI here 

4) You can recruit others to make a donation. If you recruit 5 people to sponsor your effort (e.g. $1 per mile), you can earn an exclusive Footsteps for Families t-shirt. Contact Nehemiah  (nemocionelo@gmail.com) by July 15th.

​Facebook event page - click here.

I am sorry.

Spiritual Warprayer by Saba (2019)

This week’s piece is an apology. Like everything else I have written over the past 4 months, it is from the heart. That is the only place from which I know to write.

As we hear society suddenly “awakened” to the racism of mascots, statues, and even the food pantry’s pancake syrup and processed food rice, I hear a sentiment that goes something like this. “We have now come to realize that this image, this stereotype, this caricature of a group of people is racist.”

I don’t buy it, and it isn’t about pointing the finger at anyone.

I am certain that like me, all of white America has known and always understood that these images were about dehumanizing our communities of color. We just chose to do nothing.

Now, where it is socially safe and financially beneficial to act are we making change happen. 

But let’s be real. 

Let’s be honest. 

Let’s be humble and sincere. 

We knew all along that these images were part of a sick plot to dehumanize our beautiful brothers and sisters of color.

Change is good to see, but white folks like myself and institutions that are changing would do well to add an apology.

For healing on all levels, “I am sorry” matters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Don Juan de Onate.

I remember when I moved to New Mexico, hearing the history of Onate from Acoma Pueblo and then trying to figure out why he and so many symbols of genocide are revered hundreds of years later in a land that claims to respect and value diversity. I saw that there was an Onate Hall on our UNM campus and had a hard time understanding how orchestrating a campaign of murder and torture on Acoma Pueblo earns you the right to have a building named after you. Or why one of the city’s nicest parks, tucked in along the Bosque was named Kit Carson after another murderer whose “scorched earth” campaign says all you need to know about his legacy.

As a white person, I didn’t appreciate the violence that statues and other signs of reverence perpetuate on people and communities of color. I chose to do nothing.

Imagine an Indigenous youngster with family outside of the ABQ Museum asking mom and dad why this person who tortured their ancestors is given a heroic statue. Or being a first generation college student of color at UNM and attending your ethnic studies class in Onate Hall.

I am sorry.

I also failed to realize what it says about our society that continues to accept this reality.

Here is exactly what it says:

1)      We value conquistadors and the legacy of violent, brutal conquest more than we value the original inhabitants of this land.

2)      It says loud and clear that we continue to tell a story of whose land this is and how it was obtained in a way that psychiatrists would label delusional (e.g. not based in reality).

3)      It says that white supremacy, a belief that white people are superior to those of all other races and should therefore dominate society, is alive and well, not limited to extremists and hate groups.

4)      It says that we think it is okay to keep people of color in a perpetual state of fear as a means of exerting power and control over them.

5)      It reminds me that white privilege blinds me from a large part of reality in this country (e.g. everyone’s reality who is not white) and that I need to listen deeply to what communities of color are saying if I want to have any bit of those blinders removed.

I am proud of my city, Albuquerque, that is on its way to removing all remnants of this delusional way of being from our midst. I don’t just want to see the statues and names removed – I want to apologize deeply for my inaction that kept these changes from happening sooner. I chose to do nothing, despite the moral compass that told me that Onate and Carson types have no place in the 21st century.

I am complicit in this violence of inaction.

I am ready to change our landscape, starting with my own mind and heart that tells me whether or not to stand up and act when I see others dehumanized.

I am sorry.

Randy Sabaque (Jemez Pueblo/Dine'), known in the art/hip hop world as "Saba", has always inspired me to see deeper through his art. I am honored to include these two pieces of his as part of this week's blog. The first piece "Spiritual Warprayer" in Saba's words, "shows little villages at the bottom fighting massive skyscraping structures sucking from the earth, from those villages. The rain and ancestors are working to cleanse the destruction."