Vaccinating Despair, Injecting Hope

 

Vaccinating despair

Immunizing against virus

       and

viral fear and isolation

Inoculating resilience

Injecting hope

Inspiring immune response

                                           and

infectious optimism                     

I had some other thoughts for this week’s piece, but the energy brought on by the arrival of a vaccine has truly been infectious. I couldn’t ignore it. As a writer, I know that you speak to the moment. It might not be there next week. That has been my guide through this blog’s existence.

I asked a group of first graders this morning about what they were going to do over winter break. Okay, okay – I actually asked them what healthy things they were going to do over break. A few students answered that question with “I think we need to get back to going to school”. Some answered with a question of their own, “When is this going to be over?”

I agree with these 6 year-olds that it would be great for our health and wellness to get back to a normal existence. And while I don’t have an answer for where/when the finish line is of this endurance challenge, it is a wonderful place that we find ourselves this week as the first covid vaccines are given.

The vaccine is a holiday present delivered with dry ice and stored at negative 70 degree Celsius. Batteries sold separately. Restrictions apply. Not available in all 50 states…yeah, we know the verbage of latest, greatest holiday gifts all too well. 

Playstation move over, Pfizer move in. 

Asking partner “Can we afford this?” replaced by questioning health insurance, “Will you cover it?”

The vaccine is a small bit of light cracking through the end of the tunnel. Do you see it? Look closer. Squint if you need to.

The vaccine is a reason to smile, sigh and maybe even cause for tear ducts to open.

The vaccine is an invitation for all of us to move past despair and 2020 and all that we need to leave behind.

Let us roll up our sleeve and accept the injection of hope.

UNM's healthcare workers show off their "boo boos" on first day of vaccinations this week.

Drift

 

trail

turned

to

snowy

              drift I did

into a world not virtual

into a space immaculate

into myself

drift today into your own not-virtual

    immaculate space

dare to unplug from all of the noise

                                     sounds that silence the lullaby that trail of life is wafting your way

drift far away, to dreams and ancestors and all that fills your cup

drift to yourself

 

*Special thanks to Mother Nature and the snow she provided somewhat unexpectedly last week for us in New Mexico.

Gratitude

Gratitude

Grows with slowing down, stillness

 

Gratitude

Knows the nooks and crannies of our soul, landing gently like Sandhill Crane upon

Fertile

Feeding ground.

Flows

Over

Into

the places trampled upon by 2020

setting them 

anew

alive

awakened.

 

This week of thanks

                     giving

                     gave me a chance to hear beautiful answers to question

“What does gratitude sound, feel (heart and hands), smell, and look like for you??”

Enjoy the feast as you scribe your own answers and share them with loved ones!

                    

I am grateful for the eyes, 

the eyes of the heart,

as they look at the beauty within 

and the beauty not often seen in all of life.

 

I am grateful for the hands,

the hands that serve others,

as they reach out to lift others up and push them gently to positivity and inspiration.

 

I am grateful for the ears,

the ears that listen,

as they hear the laughter of the child, a parent's cry, a partner mourning, 

and Creator's way to live in happiness. 

 

Eyes of the heart,

Hands that serve others,

Ears that listen,

all working together to make one 

feel loved

give love

and not lose their way with Living in Love, Loving in Life.

– Shannon

 

Effortless breath; birds singing as if it was spring; a smile for no apparent reason.

Sun rise and set—one thing we can count on.

Still breathing.

-Amy

 

What does gratitude sound like?

        Thank you… You're welcome

What does gratitude feel like?        

        In your heart: peace…safety…love

        In your hands: sharing…showing…building

What does gratitude smell like?

        Cut grass…fallen leaves…rain

What does gratitude look like?

        Birds flying in unison…dogs sleeping…warm fire pit

-Michael

 

Gratitude for me is ubiquitous.

It is in the rising of the sun 

and the rising of the moon

and

it is observing the values you have

strived to live by reflected back by

your children and grandchildren.

-Allan

 

Delicately waking up to the aromas of love and lemon pepper

Stretching to the blessings

High fiving the transitioned

 

Nature is shut down but there are genealogical trees swaying, growing and smiling green leaves of joy in the room we live

Standing on the mountains of our ancestors

Gazing at each gift amongst the abode

 

Beholden the Creator!

 

Fully seasoned with warmth, comfort, paprika, life and a dash of salt

Family recipes ready to consume

Imbibing the earth’s hydrogen, hydrogen, and oxygen

Everyone safely encompassed in these four walls

 

Beholden the Creator!

 

Deeply,

          Inhaling a soul full of gratitude

For there is nothing more to want

 

Thankful

-Danielle

Bowls into Cabinets

 

How does a clean bowl get put back into the cabinets?

Not a trick question, but a real dilemma if you are a little one.

Dwarfed by the imposing height of the cabinets, my kiddos huddled to discuss.

Eavesdropping, here is what I heard,

Small legs.

Big cabinets.

Clean bowls.

Should we just go play?

I need to go potty.

 

Like any respectable adult, I tried to re-focus my mind on real things. Quickly move on from this frivolity to things adults should be thinking about

What shirt to re-wear for work from the couch today? Pajama pants again?

How to balance personal wellness and being up-to-date in my pandemic news consumption today?

Why aren’t there any clean bowls in the cabinet?

Should we just go play?

I need to go potty.

 

About a week later, not intending to get to the bottom of the mystery, I did just that. Catching a glimpse of the children shuttling clean bowls to empty cabinets, I snuck with fatherly deftness around the kitchen’s perimeters.

Channeling my inner James Bond, looking over my shoulders for any sign of “bad guys”, I crouched low.

Ouch. A bit too low.

Should have stretched out before trying that.

Here is what I saw:

When life gives you imposing challenges today and in these next weeks, become the child you still are. Throw away ego and figure out who it is around you who can help you reach the cabinets. 

As COVID roars, the cabinets seem higher than normal, the kitchen is lonely, and the bowls are staring at you. In those moments, become a little one again. Reach out, reach up for the support you need. Think about friends, family, neighbors who might be reaching for the cabinet, and offer a hand before they ask.

And finally, give in to those two nagging thoughts we adults so carefully suppress:

Should we just go play?

I need to go potty.

Writing to Heal: The 45-Word Edition

 

Calm

Peace

Tranquility

Breathe them in, slow and deep

 

Calm

Peace

Tranquility

Embrace your antidote

                                   4

                                    COVID Craze

                                        Virtual Daze

                                            Dizzying Maze

 

Calm fears with gratitude

Peace

Tranquility ur new attitude

 

Breathe them in, slow and deep

Grow your own healing

If necessary, use words.

This week, I wanted to play with a self-imposed challenge: what can I say in 50 words or less that is meaningful around the climate where election and COVID spike has everything stirred up. Take the challenge yourself - 50 words or less 😊

A vision for undoing racism + achieving equity in health

Thirty-three times I have written.

In gratitude.

In confidence that we can turn our world toward hope and healing. 

Of our planet. Of ourselves. Of our communities.

This week, I want to focus on someone else’s writing.

A long time ago, back in October when COVID numbers were low, we were asked to give a keynote address at the New Mexico Public Health Association (NMPHA) conference on racism and health equity. Adults speaking to adults.

It seemed like a perfect moment to get creative and bring youth voices into the conversation.

So, we asked young leaders from our Native Health Initiative partnership to meet at Robinson Park on a pandemic Sunday. Bring an open heart and dress in a way that reflects your cultures. No other instructions.

We sat beneath a tree. Air was calm, birds chirped their hellos.

The youth began to write, speaking to their experiences of what they had to tell the world on undoing racism, to working toward equity in health. They spoke about not being listened to enough by the adult world.

Their voices were captured on film, with my brother leading the way on the videography side of things. I had contributed the concept for the film, but the youth wrote all of their own lines.

Hip hop culture, both in the art and the music would provide the backdrop for the film.

The conversations were interesting as we moved from one location to another.

“Does mentioning this take away from our work, implying that despite the handicap of being young, that we still made big things happen?” they discussed.

Does focusing on healthcare miss the larger picture of what allows people to have health?

What does a healthy education system look like?

What does a healthy food system mean?

What does a healthy neighborhood feel like?

Without further ado, I would like to present their vision, their answers. This film was premiered at that NMPHA conference, saved as the last part of the address. 

Youth speaking. Adults listening.

Click here to watch the 2-minute film

After the film showed, Emelia spoke and we put up the last slide, to make sure everyone had heard their call to action:

Jump!

 Like a good dad, when my kids talk I listen.

“Dad, we want a trampoline.”

My mind went where most parents’ minds go when expensive, potentially dangerous requests are made from our well-intentioned little ones.

“Which neighbor has a trampoline so that I can fulfill this request?” I pondered.

Luckily, I could answer the question. A lovely neighbor does indeed have one of these jumping, bouncing polypropylene sandboxes with springs. And in good condition. And with netting to make me feel safer as a parent.

So, after gaining permission to jump, we headed over to try it out.

Our three oldest got right to jumping. No hesitation. Barely a “Thank you for letting us invade your yard and use your trampoline for our dad who is too cheap to buy us one.”

Our smallest watched for a few moments, trying to figure this out. Clearly, she had second thoughts. Has she read the Pediatrics guidelines around injury risks from such devices?

I picked her up and placed her on the springy surface.

Her look back to me communicated a strong skepticism.

“Dear, you jump up and then have fun falling down.”

In her mind: “Fall. Falling down. That means getting hurt, boo-boos, ouchies, band-aids.”

Despite my pleading, I couldn’t convince her that this was a safe place to jump and fall. I carried her off the trampoline.

 

 

We don’t jump because we are afraid to fall.

We don’t take that leap because of the security of feeling our feet on the ground.

We miss the exhilaration of being airborne because we are so focused on what happens when we come down.

Fear of failure holds us back from envisioning the heights we can reach.

Focusing on past “ouchies” and falls keeps us from jumping ahead.

Trauma and scars from hitting the ground in the past trip us up in the present, both keeping us from jumping and putting us into a “fall mindset”

So much so that when a trampoline moment presents itself, with possibilities of reaching superhero heights, we turn around and ask to get off without having taken a jump.

Even when trampoline moments ask us to suspend our beliefs around falling, ask us to re-consider the equation falling = failing, it is still tempting to back away without ever going airborne.

Excited to where you all take this analogy, how you choose to finish the piece…

Excited to hear whether this piece helps you jump!