Life is Complicated

How are you?

I ask the question knowing there’s not a simple answer.

Whenever Paul Reps, author of the book, Zen Flesh, Zen Bones was asked that question, he frequently answered, "It's complicated. Ask me what I had for breakfast. That's a question I can answer."

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How are you? A complicated question and not as straightforward as we sometimes assume. 

The Pandemic of 2020 is full of contradictions. These days when people ask me, “How are you, Judy?” I pause. Saying, “I’m fine,” doesn’t seem to do the question justice. On one level I am fine. I wake up healthy. I watch the sunrise, drink two cups of Market Spice Tea. I spy on crows, blue jays, and squirrels as they gather pieces of bread that I’ve tossed into the backyard. Several crows accustomed to this routine show up at the same time every morning. I get a kick out of our shared ritual. I’m grateful for this connection with nature and for the comfort and meaning of everyday joys. There’s never a dull moment in my backyard.

Feeling fine is one layer and at the same moment I’m mindful of another level of understanding that calls for recognition. Things are not fine. Grief is everywhere. People are worried, restless, lonely, sad. We’re hoping that normal will be here again and concerned that it won’t. Amidst our shared grief, we experience how vulnerable we all are and yet with grace and effort we rise to the occasion. We do our best with what we’ve got while grieving what may not return. Grief is love for what is lost. Can you feel it in the air? Sometimes crying helps. Sometimes simple helps.

What did I have for breakfast? Usually it’s the same tea and toast, maybe an egg. But on May 1, I decided to try baking an “easy” cinnamon roll recipe sent by a friend. Her’s turned out looking and tasting good. Mine turned out looking and tasting like rocks. Breakfast was complicated on May Day.

The personal slogan I apply in such situations is, “Things go wrong and things go right, things go wrong and more goes right.” I don’t know if that’s always accurate, but I’m holding onto my personal and professional experience that has taught me that more goes right. When this Pandemic has run its course, when I am still processing the angst of what we’ve been through I intend to keep it simple. The cure for complicated is simple. I’ll take myself to the French Bakery for a vanilla cappuccino and croissant. I’ll smile and laugh with the barista and say, “I missed you.” I’ll ask, “How are you? What did you have for breakfast?” I will leave a healthy, thankful tip.

Take gentle care,

Judy Ford 

Staying Connected Through Our Stories

An Open Letter To My Clients During The Pandemic

Looking out the windows, watching an eagle fly by as crows splash in the bird bath, I’m transported away from background noise of TV news to the beauty and merriment in my backyard. Life is full of contradictions. From the invisible pandemic wrecking havoc to the enchantment of a deer chewing on my rose bush, life is endlessly intriguing. From dark nights of the soul, to existential angst, to joyful embraces filled with heartfelt tears and laughter. There’s so much in this wonderland to love and so much we do not yet understand.

Yes, I’m staying home. Yes, I watching too much news. Yes I miss meeting in person with clients and friends. I’m restless and I wonder how and when this stay home policy might end. When an unexpected wave of unrest rolls over me, alongside that unease memories comfort and reassure my spirit.

I remember strangers who walked into my office and became my clients. Memories of those meetings fill me with optimism. People who seek counseling are ~ in the secret corners of their psyche ~ optimistic. Why else would a person seek out a stranger? Why would a person reveal their vulnerabilities, ask for assistance, tell of disappointments and heartbreaks, acknowledge the messy imperfect parts? I can’t adequately describe how it happens that two strangers’ paths cross and they join in a collaborative dialogue. Perhaps it’s because they believe in possibilities, they are willing to be open, to cry, to disagree, to laugh and grow into their authentic selves. Whatever brings a person to counseling, I appreciate the curiosity and willingness to be participants in the magical art of healing stories and enlightening conversations.

This pandemic has thrown us for a loop. Life is difficult. We heard about the 1790’s Yellow Fever but we never expected to be in the middle of a pandemic in 2020.  We are not prepared for the emotional roller coaster ride. We feel out of control, helpless and worried.

In such anxiety-filled moments we do what comes naturally: We reach out for human connection. We arrange meetings with friends in front of screens. We listen to stories of how others cope and what they’re worried about. We share our own troubles and those small stories soothe and remind us that we are not alone. We watch the news and our hearts go out to people who are infected and separated from loved ones. We’re inspired and lifted by people across the world that we have never met who are making heroic efforts for their community.

One day, in the future, it’s likely that we will look back and tell and hear more stories of personal encounters with Coronavirus 2020. These tales are worth telling and re-telling, for it is in the telling of our struggles that we uncover fresh appreciation for who we are, where we’ve been, how far we’ve come. It’s in sharing difficulties that healing connections are made.

Stories are essential for understanding who we are and so I invite you to share with me and reach out to others. For example, it feels good to me to ask the grocery store checker, “How are doing?” or “I appreciate that you are working, it must be difficult.” These exchanges have far reaching positive consequences and although we never know for sure how our reaching out impacts another, I can verify from personal and professional experience that such exchanges reach further than we imagine. Through awareness of our mutual human struggle goodness spreads all around.

Dear one, please know that your stories have impacted my life. Not only does the person telling the story benefit but so does the listener. I am enriched by what you’ve shared and look forward to our next meeting and hearing more of your stories.