Is it
T H A T
s i m p l e:
CHANGE YOUR WORDS
CHANGE YOUR WORLD
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm of the Day :
F I N D O U T
(say it differently)
USE FRESH WORDS
not to be heard
but experienced. . .
Who Cares - What Matters
Is it
T H A T
s i m p l e:
CHANGE YOUR WORDS
CHANGE YOUR WORLD
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm of the Day :
F I N D O U T
(say it differently)
USE FRESH WORDS
not to be heard
but experienced. . .
Sometimes the best
W O R D S
I’ve ever said
are the ones
I’ve never spoken. . .
Sometimes the Heart Shouts
what a mouth can’t Whisper. . .
SOMETIME WORDS
AREN’T THE RIGHT WORDS TO SAY. . .
Sometimes if you just use WORDS
to communicate you’ll never quite say
the right thing. . .
Sometimes if you just use Words
no one will ever know exactly what
you’re saying. . .
S O M E T I M E S
Being a True C A R I N G C A T A L Y S T
means that Compassion and Love
need no Legislation or Policing and
Obliterates THEM and THEY
or I and YOU
and only is known abundantly as
US and WE. . .
T I S S U E
A T i s s u e. . .
Simple request, huh. . .
I was visiting them
for just a routine visit;
One month. . .
A month ago he was power washing his deck
buying a new car
going to a clam bake
and being diagnosed for the first time
with advance pancreatic cancer. . .
A Month Ago
isn’t a very long time. . .
a mere 744 hours
a mere 44,640 minutes
a mere 2,678,4000 seconds
. . .a month
and now he’s just literally moments away from dying. . .
My Charting very sterilely states:
I provided supportive presence via active listening/validation of feelings/comments, life/faith/family review; I shared scripture/prayer/blessing/healing touch; the pt was never fully awake/responsive during visit but appears comfortable/managed; pt is showing s/s of actively dying with his breathing pattern and the mottling of his skin on his hands, lips and feet up to his knees; the family expressed thanks for my visit and for all services/interventions/support shown; when sharing that the he was our patient and they are our concern, I asked if I could be of any other service or if I could bring them anything; pt’s wife responded: “TISSUE.” Can you bring us a softer tissue?” I left room and acquired a softer box of tissues from the supply room. . . .”
Paint a picture
Just the facts
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
. . .as abrasive as a cheap, non-brand tissue. . .
He died shortly after I left for the day
and now I think of him
o f t e n
with every tissue I see
and I seem to be seeing them
e v e r y w h e r e
The word C O M P A S S I O N
comes from Greek word
which literally translates:
S U F F E R I N G W I T H
and it’s never the S U F F E R I N G
that’s emphasized so much as
THE WITH
R E A L C H A N G E
never really is the JINGLE
in your pocket
so much as the recognition
IT IS THE ONLY THING CONSTANT
in our lives
and often something we have little control. . .
A Month isn’t a very long time
A Tissue isn’t very much of a request in a world of
W A N T S
We’re not called to be millionaires
We’re not called to be Fixers
We’re not called to be Healers
We’re not called to be Nurses
We’re not called to be Doctors
We’re not called to be Chaplains
We’re not called to be Nursing Assistants
We’re not called to be Counselors
We’re called to be Compassionate People
The WHERE
THE WHEN
THE HOW
is inconsequential
to the T H A T
WE ARE COMPASSIONATE
WE ARE KIND
WE ARE EMPATHETIC
WE ARE SYMPATHETIC
WE ARE CARING CATALYSTS
IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK. . .
IS IT TOO MUCH EXPECT. . .
IS IT TOO MUCH FEEL. . .
IF WE FAIL. . .
CAN IT BE IN EXHAUSTING EVERY EFFORT
TO L O V E. . .
l e t s f i n d o u t
even if it’s just
a softer t i s s u e. . .
Being a True C A R I N G C A T A L Y S T
means that Compassion and Love
need no Legislation or Policing and
Obliterates THEM and THEY
or I and YOU
and only is known abundantly as
US and WE. . .
It’s not just one of my favorite comedy movies. . .
It’s one of my favorite scenes in a comedy movie
and it lasts all but about 35 seconds;
but it’s a classic 35 seconds. . .
U N C L E B U C K
Calling off work. . .again;
And even though
“The Excuse”
is really legitimate
T H I S T I M E,
he can’t get a word in to his girlfriend/boss;
Ever have a moment like this?
You try to explain. . .
but you are in no way getting heard,
or even having the chance to do so. . .
C o m m u n i c a t i o n
is such a huge part of what we do every day
and it is truly good question:
A M I B E I N G H E A R D ?
A better question:
I S W H A T I ‘ M N O T S A Y I N G, B E I N G H E A R D ?
It’s one of my favorite presentations,
I’m giving it again this week to a group of Nurses, Social Workers, Care-Givers who are experts in this field
. . . or. . . ?
It’s what we know,
what we know we know,
what we’d bet our lives that we know,
that often we don’t for the life of us,
act like we know at at all, isn’t it?
I will through film clips like,
Uncle Buck calling off work
and others that use how words
S A I D
and words
H E A R D
are not always the same kind of
W O R D S
at all.
Through interactive exercises
and yes through some fairly embarrassing play-acting on my part,
we will be led to look,
to listen,
to E X P E R I E N C E
this wonderful art of Communication
—-A G A I N !
We will be implored to be
A C T I V E listeners. . .
H E A R E R S
of what’s not being said but
desperately needing be heard. . .
What can’t be texted, Instagrammed,tweeted or face booked
spoken or heard
but despairingly needs to be understood
–now more than ever–
we are called to do
T H A T. . .
with those we are meeting,
barely knowing or deeply,
sincerely intimate. . .
The most important step
is a willingness to
H E A R,
to L I S T E N,
to U N D E R S T A N D,
to connect in a way words
can never convey
but direly attempt to,
just the same.
That W I L L I N G N E S S
doesn’t take
HOW-TO
so much as
WANT-TO
and it’s often exhausting and fruitless. . .
But, when there’s a
C O N N E C T I O N,
an U N D E R S T A N D I N G,
a D I S C E R N M E N T
far exceeding what
W O R D S
can achieve,
well now–we’ve got
C O M M U N I C A T I O N,
Houston
and it,
I T I S G L O R I O U S,
and so very much worth it. . .
I don’t want you to Listen to me. . .
I want you to Hear me—–
Hear what my heart is shouting
and my mouth will never be able to whisper,
your ears will never hear,
your eyes–never read. . .
Shhhhhhhh. . .Listen,
Please. . .
Don’t Uncle Buck me !
This is pinned above my desk at Hospice of the Western Reserve’s David Simpson Hospice House where I work with angels and serve patients and their families. . .
I see it hundreds of times a week as I chart, talk on the phone, prepare for presentations
. . .and yet,
I’m not so sure it’s fully sunk in since I put it up there just a little over two years ago;
. . .and isn’t this exactly what it’s all about. . .
not only to LOVE. . .
but to be L O V E D
or as s h e
framed it:
“T O H E A R T A N D T O B E H E A R T E D. . .”
Can you see it?
.
Admitted. . .
you have to look really, really hard and maybe even longer. . .
Look again just ahead of the word
A D M I T T E D
Do you see it now?
Squint
Squint harder, more intently
Ahhhhhhh, there it is right?
What do you see. . .
Here, let me make it easier for you:
LOOK BEYOND WHAT’S SEEN;
SEE WHAT CAN’T BE VIEWED
She purposely, intentionally asked to see me. . .
her husband was dying
and her request was almost insulting simple:
“Would it be alright if I could bring a heart shaped stone to honor my husband? In the Meditation Room, I saw that there is a bowl of rocks that have been placed there to remember each person that has died here at Hospice House. I’d just like to bring in a small heart shaped rock to remember him; would that be alright?”Simple, huh?
He died over the weekend. I never saw her or him again.
When I went into the Meditation room on Monday, I saw in the bowl of rocks a heart shaped one. . .
She said, “It was ‘OUR THING'”
and now, quite simply and humbly without trumpets blaring drums beating she made it MY THING, she made it even further through this Blog, OUR THING
The QUESTION
really is:
WILL IT BE YOUR THING ?
She told me, “It was ‘our thing’ I HEART HIM!”
I stood there Monday morning before really starting my day, my week with a heart shaped stone in my hand and the first thing that I thought was that there was one thing stronger than any shaped stone:
L O V E
And so I’ll ask again:
.
DO YOU SEE IT ?
Look beyond what’s seen:
white space or minuscule dot
SEE WHAT CAN’T BE VIEWED
KNOW WHAT CAN’T BE UNDERSTOOD
EXPERIENCE WHAT CAN’T BE READILY FELT
L I V E
h e a r t
a n d
b e
H E A R T E D
(along your ways)
It was just a couple of weeks
following the worst day of my life:
the death of my Grandfather. . .
My Hero
My Role Model
My Idol
My Victim. . .
I believed that I had killed him
when I hit a softball
and it crushed him in his side
and exploded his Spleen;
Now two weeks later
after the funeral
but far from the
UNIVERSE OF GRIEF
we had just finished our supper
in the dining room at my Grandmother’s house
and there it was. . .
A K N O C K A T T H E A L L U M I N U M S C R E E N D O O R
I seriously thought it was the police
coming to pick me up for my crime
but who I saw at the door was much worse:
IT WAS OUR FAMILY MINISTER
. . .any time the family Minister came to visit
it was never a good thing. . .
There was the time I flipped bubble gum into Margaret Young’s hair from the balcony
There was the time I stole Coke from the dime machine for the whole youth group
There was the Communion wine incident. . .
and now T H I S
What was so amazing was that he had come from Washington, PA
all the way (25) miles to Wheeling, WV
to make a Pastoral Visit. . .
I, seriously don’t remember one word Dr. Dozier said that night
but I’ll NEVER forget
what he did. . .
HE SHOWED UP
and me, a couple of weeks from my 14th Birthday
knew at that very moment
what I wanted to do
for the rest of my life:
SHOW UP
I, at that very moment
wanted to do for others
what he had done for my family:
SHOW UP
A couple of days ago
I suffered through one of the worst
professional days of my 23 year hospice career. . .
A number of my colleagues were laid off;
it wasn’t the first time
in fact, it’s becoming more and more frequent;
one time, it actually involved me
but this time
it felt different. . .
it hurts deeper
aches harder
cuts sharper
stings more consistently
swells larger
h u r t s
I didn’t mean
I didn’t want
to be just another unaffected NOUN
I wanted to be more than words in a text
I wanted to be a Verb
I wanted to not reach out
I wanted to touch
I wanted to be felt
I wanted to do what words
attempt
but only actions can convey. . .
I WANTED TO SHOW UP
I wanted to SHOW UP for THEM
like I knew these wonderful, highly gifted people
have done countless times
for innumerable amounts of others
(me included)
They have taught me much. . .
but mostly
that I’m an ARTIST
that I’m a MUSICIAN
with a masterpiece that gets shared
in no other way
than simply by just showing up
and more
that the Shadow
can never know
promise
or do
what anyone of us can by
SHOWING UP
I refuse to grieve
the absence of each of them
so much as celebrate
their PRESENCE
in my Practice
in my LIFE
and for that
I’m just not indebted. . .
I’m eternally GRATEFUL
so I’ll replace
GOOD BYE
with
THANK YOU
I don’t want to sermonize:
I just want to assure
I just want to insure
I just want to share
I just want to Companion
I just want to Be with Another
and Another
and Another
as so many others have been for me
I want to be for others. . .
(no more words)
Stick and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me. . .
T r u e, h u h ?
Words, won’t hurt you at all. . .
they’ll maim,
mutilate,
humiliate,
and possibly stop you growing for quite sometime if ever,
the same again,
but no,
W o r d s w i l l n e v e r h u r t y o u . . .
It was our parents and grandparents way of protecting us from bullies wasn’t it?
But again,
the biggest bullies we ever face
might not be those we perceive to do us harm
from the “OUTSIDE,”
but those who are the very closest to us,
wives,
husbands,
mothers,
fathers,
sons,
daughters,
grandparents,
nieces/nephews,
brothers,
sisters,
friends, or, yes. . ,
even o u r s e l v e s !
I WISH THAT YOU WOULD SAY__________________________________________
We all have our individual ways
of filling in the most important blank
that often leaves us
B L A N K—–
E m p t y. . .
H O W we fill in that Blank
is much more important than W H A T
we fill in it’s________________________.
And yes,
we know it,
we know we know it,
we bet our lives that we know it,
but for the life of us,
we mostly act like we don’t know:
We can be that
Glorious Blank FILLER
for others. . .
I WISH THAT YOU WOULD SAY. . .
Needs to be replaced with:
TELL ME WHAT YOU’D LIKE TO HEAR
THAT WOULD MAKE YOU THE
H A P P I E S T. . .
and then do more than listen,
or hear. . .
but do accordingly. . .
Absolutely,
YOUR WORDS ARE POWERFUL . .
Use them as the balm that soothes i
nstead of the bash that bruises. . .
In the End,
we will remember not the words of our enemies,
but the silence of our friends
–Martin Luther King, Jr.
Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will. . .
hmmmmmmmmmmm. . .
Fill in
“T H E B L A N K”
C o m p a s s i o n a t e ly . . .
T H I S I S C H R I S T M A S
Most wait 364 days for it to come
but the best Kind of Christmas
isn’t the one that’s expressed
with language
it’s the one that’s spoken with
with the heart
The best Kind of Christmas
isn’t the one that needs words
but the one that leaves you speechless
The best Kind of Christmas
isn’t the one sung of
but the one that symphonies match not
The best Kind of Christmas
isn’t found in a manger thousands of years ago
but the one found in you–
shared with countless others
T H I S I S C H R I S T M A S
HAVE THE MOST ENDLESS
MERRIEST ONE
A
Caring Catalyst can share
365 days a year
Pssssssssssst of the Day:
It just might be
one
simple
h u g
away!
When was the last time you danced. . .
L I K E N O O N E W A S W A T C H I N G ?
There’s many things I don’t know
but one thing I am absolutely positive of is
o n e d a y I w i l l d i e !
There’s one other absolute thing I know for 1000% certainty:
T H E W O R L D W I L L G O O N !
In fact,
the world will still be one busy place.
Calendars will be made, kept and planned. . .
Precious material things will just be. . .t h i n g s . . .
W O R D S – – –
the many I’ve written down
really won’t be worth even the paper they’re printed
because most likely they’ll be tossed
if not by my kids
then certainly my grandkids
or the next occupant of my house who won’t give them a second look. . .
There will be little to no memory of any argument I’ve had. . .
No more texts to be made or had or saved or. . .l o s t. . .
No more nagging regrets. . .
A N D
On T H A T day
I know people who love me will be sad
. . .will feel empty
. . .might feel swindled
. . .won’t be totally expecting it
. . .will feel their hearts beat differently for a little while
The Take Away :
D A N C E
Don’t miss the chance to dance while you can
with those whom
would give anything
not to pass up the chance
of having just one more
p r e c i o u s
second with you.
Before
I,
y o u,
w e
die
let’s l i v e
and
d a n c e
like no one’s peeking
w h e n e v e r y o n e d a r e n o t l o o k a w a y. . . .
More than feathery pages. . .
More than words on paper. . .
We are all a Story in The Book.
Do you know this one?
A grandson of slaves, a boy was born in a poor neighborhood of New Orleans
His dad abandoned the family when he was an infant. His mother became a prostitute and the kid and his sister had to live with their grandmother. Early in life, he proved to be gifted for music and, with three other kids, he sang in the streets and became a professional of sorts by having coins thrown at him.
A Jewish family, Karnosvsky, who had immigrated from Lithuania to the USA, had pity for the 7-yr-old boy and brought him into their home. Initially given ‘work’ in the House, to feed this hungry child. Then he remained and slept in this Jewish family home where, for the first time in his life, he was treated with kindness. When he went to bed, Mrs. Karnovsky sang him a Russian lullaby that he would sing with her.
Later, he learned to sing and play several Russian and Jewish songs. Over time, this boy became the adopted son of this family. The Karnovsky’s gave him money to buy his very first trumpet; they sincerely admired his musical talent. When he became a more established professional musician, he used these Jewish melodies in compositions, such as St. James Infirmary and Go Down, Moses.
The little boy grew up and wrote a book about this Jewish family who had adopted him in 1907. In memory of this family and until the end of this life, he wore a Star of David and he said that it is in this family that he had learned “how to live real life and determination.”
The little boy?
Louis Armstrong. . .
More than feathery pages. . .
More than words on paper. . .
We are all a Story in the Book.
Hmmmmm. . .
What a Wonderful World, huh?
Pssssssst: You’re Story–it’s still be written. . . .
Make it E X T R A
Ordinary!
It’s quite the Symphony not only waiting to be fully composed, but
played. . .sung. . .heard!
You OWE it to the World. . .
and the World awaits.