What I once took for granted are some of the beautiful friendships I’ve made through the years with different, creative and vibrant people who truly contributing to the world to make it a better place, but then death took them all- Amy, a 56 year old complicated and brilliant human who was not only a loyal friend, but worked with me in my book publicity business for 20 years. She died the beginning of Covid. William, 60, am interfaith minister I worked closely with as a minister also for 7 years, and then I get a call that they found a rare disease, no cure, a handsome, tall, beautifully looking and speaking human, and Christa, a gorgeous and beautiful songbird, age 60, died in her sleep, finding out thru Facebook she had died. I was close to all of them and we added luscious beds to one another’ s lives. These friendships weren’t easy (is any kind of great relationship easy?) but boy oh boy did we add richness to one another’s life. Being older I’ve tried, with intention, to make new friends, but it hasn’t happened, people too busy with their lives, and I may not have these types of gorgeous friends as I had, but I don’t give up. There is this acceptance of reality, and patience and grace are now at my table. Now no expectations, but I realize., after they’ve gone, how blessed I’ve been to have known them. As I’m sharing this I’m missing and yearning for them , to pick up the phone, no texting with any of them, and having our long , wonderful conversations, which were sometimes painful, but who said blessed relationship s are easy. Now I have gratitude for each day., and feel so blessed they were in my life.
I mothered three adorable humans, from infant to preteen in Los Angeles, and then preteen through adulthood on the Central Coast of California. We were a team, through school events, divorce, being a working single mom. One by one they launched...got married...had children...moved away. Now they are scattered across the country in every direction, grandchildren and great grandchildren in tow. And I no longer live in easy to access Los Angeles, but instead, and delightfully, in a rural, tourists in the summer town in Montana, where we are presently almost snowed in...and where there is no airport except through a canyon an hour away. I no longer take for granted that I can see my most loved people in life whenever I want. I do thank God for being alive in the age of Facetime and cheap cell phone service (when I grew up we paid $1 a minute to talk to my grandmother who lived 6 hours away). But oh...I miss them. I'll never take seeing them for granted again.
Both passed within the last year. My dad died on April 8, 2022, and my mom joined him in paradise 11 months later, on March 8, 2023. Both were 89 years of age. The grief of losing both is still fresh.
Throughout my life and our relationship, which was complicated at times, I had the illusion that they would always be there.
The last six years altered my perspective and appreciation. With each two-day road trip I would embark on from North Carolina to New York for a visit, my awareness kept reminding me that this could be the last time I saw them. While I looked forward to these visits, there was tension at times. A small house, one bathroom, emotional triggers, old judgments, and the unhealed traumas we collectively shared.
I have begun the ancient Hawaiian practice of Ho’oponopono as part of my healing and forgiveness of them and myself. I believe my mantra, which I try to say while in the theta brain wave state, crosses over the thin veil that separates the worlds.
“I am sorry."
“Please forgive me.”
“I love you.”
“Thank you.”
I am at peace knowing they are finally at peace, and I no longer take my parents for granted.
I am grateful for my pet family, and appreciate them even more than when they were young. Back then, it just felt like they would always be around - I knew differently - but it felt that way - they were part of the fabric of everyday life. But now they are 18, 16 and 14, and I am keenly aware that my time with them is drawing to a close, that within 3 years they may all be gone, and so I cherish them even more, and make sure to do special loving things just to make them extra happy, and enjoy their company greatly. Especially bedtime, when the two cats and the dog are on my bed, and I relish the joy and sweetness of being so deeply loved. :-)
I’m getting my notebook today. I’ve gone from,”no way am I doing that! to ok, I’ve never done it or anything close,” but Miss Suleika could sell ice in -40 degree weather! I’m from Bangor, Maine!
“There will be discomfort, to be sure, but it will be discomfort born like the beating of new wings against the walls of a holy chrysalis.” I loved this line.
I can no longer take my marriage and child for granted. I am recovering from late pregnancy loss and very lucky to be parenting my living miracle child after a decade-long battle with illness and infertility. My partner and I have chosen to grow closer through it all while we have witnessed others around us have the children they want, but lose the marriage--or keep the love, but not reach the other shore of parenthood after similarly protracted battles and choose other meaningful life paths. I am now dedicated to telling these stories, revealing that family building is a trip through initiatory woods for so many of us, and rarely do we emerge on the other side with the family we imagined since childhood, nor the same selves we were when we started. But many of us do find that the discomfort of it all was the discomfort of the chrysalis--and what lies outside of it is brilliant, terrifying, and open, if we are brave enough to break out and make the most of its wild, precious invitation.
"NOURISHING" That's the word!! It describes perfectly how I feel about The Isolation Journals. Each week, I look forward to Sunday mornings and reading the newsletter. I brew up my once a week Turkish coffee, curl up on my favourite couch spot and savour the words, stories and images. Sometimes my emotions appear and well up in the back of my eyes.
"BEAUTIFUL" Indeed, all of the beautiful images of the work are in themselves nourishing. I often think of how much work is involved in this "... Endless and Proper Work." All of the writing, the research, the amazing artwork and editing that take place and result in the extraordinary final result.
Suleika, you are a treasure. Intrepid and fearless, even when not in the best of health (to put it mildly), you let little stop you from this work. The world (whoever that may be) is very fortunate to have met you, even if not in person. I'm sure we all feel like we know you and you are our friend, as you address us in the newsletter. I think it was Jon who said, "We love you even though we don't really know you."
After losing my husband a year ago, I realize that for nearly 5 years of full-time caretaking, I took for granted the ever present access, the way in, to zen and the art of slow moving; whether cleaning, cooking, thinking or writing - I now have time and space to act with intention. No longer out of control like a windswept castaway plastic bag - OD'd on cortisol - nightmarish..... I had been in a constant frenzy running from bedside, to pharmacy, to ER, to doctor appointments with anguish at every turn. Now my moves are deliberate and intentional - affording me quietude and pauses which are rife with reward.
Wow, as I age I sure see how good health is the foundation one needs to “do life”. Not that I didn’t realize it along the way because I worked in healthcare for 40 plus years. I saw first hand the implications and problems associated with health issues. Our bodies age and often associated with that are chronic ailments like arthritis, and there are more severe issues that compromise our lives. I’m lucky to seemingly be in pretty good shape, but as we know, that doesn’t last!
I thought you might get a kick out of this- At 70 years old I decided to start journaling with the 30 day project. Three words in, my pen ran out of ink. Irony at its finest.. new pen.. and onward!!
Apr 2, 2023·edited Apr 2, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad
I love the Mary Oliver quote: “To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.” I cannot believe that there was a time when I didn't notice dogs. I am an alcoholic. I drank quite a lot until I was 38. I am now 51. I will celebrate 13 years sober on May 7th (most likely!). When I was very young, I begged for a dog. My mom would promise me. We never got a dog. Then, we did. I had a black lab named Cinder. She was sweet. She had puppies on my bed. My mom was also an alcoholic. So, one day my dog and her puppies were gone. I don't remember the explanation. A dog show came to my school in 3rd grade and I thought the black lab was my dog.
I think for many years after that, for many reasons, I simply didn't notice dogs. I'm sure they were there, but my attention was elsewhere. After I got sober, I started to notice everything around me, including dogs. Now, I love them so much. I pay attention to everything. It is a blessing and a curse. It is my superpower and my downfall on a daily basis. We cannot have a dog where we live right now. I commune with every dog I pass on the street. I remember one of my sobriety revelations was that dog is god spelled backward. It was one of those days when I needed to see the truth and there it was. Simple. My dream is to live somewhere with lots of land and lots of dogs. I will take them in and pay attention to them.
I try so hard not to take things for granted, but I do. I am human.
When I shattered my spine six years ago- the bone fragments narrowly missing my spinal cord- I swore I would never take my ability to walk for granted ever again. But I have.
When I began having complications from the two surgeries it took to repair my spine, I swore I would never take not being in pain for granted ever again. But I have.
When I developed intestinal problems that made it difficult to eat, I swore I would never take the ability to digest food for granted ever again. But I have.
When circumstances left me with a less than desirable living situation- a house with a rodent infestation, unsafe water, and mold- I swore I would never take living in a healthy environment for granted ever again. But I have.
When the pandemic took away my ability to see loved ones and consumed me with a sense of urgency and anxiety, I swore I would never take face-to-face contact and time for granted ever again. But I have.
The sky is never more blue, the sunshine never more beautiful, and the fresh air never more sweet than when we are denied these things, like during a hospital stay or other difficult time, but eventually it loses some of its magic if we are lucky enough to have enough days pass in between. Is this hedonic adaptation?
Tragedies and hard times leave pain and fear in their wake but also a deeper sense of life and humanity. I feel guilty for not feeling grateful for every minute that I am not in pain or for when things are flowing a little easier, and sometimes I feel like I cause the next bad thing to happen because I forgot and took it for granted again.
The only anecdote I have found for this is to be present with the little moments of peace and joy- to notice the fluffy white clouds passing over me when I look up during a walk around my neighborhood if I have the strength on that day; to indulge in an warm gooey oatmeal cookie from my favorite coffee shop if my stomach is feeling okay on that day; to notice the soft sheets as I slide into bed each night, take a few deep breaths and sigh them out and pray for another day tomorrow to notice things and learn things and maybe practicing loving people a little bit better.
The blue sky. Two summers ago, wildfire smoke throughout the West blew in and made the air in our box canyon resemble the cloudy water of a fish bowl in need of cleaning. We couldn't even see the mountains. I was reminded of the one time I visited Hong Kong and the pollution was so bad, I almost started crying when I viewed a tree trunk whose branches and leaves disappeared in the smog. I checked the site Purple Air daily, which told me I should exercise indoors. Then, last summer, the monsoon rain season returned and kept the fires hundreds of miles away. The sky was naturally gray on rainy days, then brilliant bluebird blue on sunny ones. I will never take that blue for granted again.
Allowing that space and quiet for intuition to be heard is so important. These days it's too easy to spend all of our time distracted, filled with noise, our brains have got used to it and start to itch when it goes away. But all of my creativity and ideas show up when I get really really quiet ❤️
So much creativity and spirituality in this group. I am a 3 in creativity and a 0 in spirituality. Have I wandered into an alternate universe? Loving returning to journaling though.
Seems my genes gave me organizational/perfection abilities that I took for granted, and always in a positive way. It was difficult for me to maintain a journal, I now realize, because my "abilities" made it much too much work! I've recently found myself jotting down thoughts whenever they come to me, and adding them to a messy type of journal that I am enjoying now at 73!
What I once took for granted are some of the beautiful friendships I’ve made through the years with different, creative and vibrant people who truly contributing to the world to make it a better place, but then death took them all- Amy, a 56 year old complicated and brilliant human who was not only a loyal friend, but worked with me in my book publicity business for 20 years. She died the beginning of Covid. William, 60, am interfaith minister I worked closely with as a minister also for 7 years, and then I get a call that they found a rare disease, no cure, a handsome, tall, beautifully looking and speaking human, and Christa, a gorgeous and beautiful songbird, age 60, died in her sleep, finding out thru Facebook she had died. I was close to all of them and we added luscious beds to one another’ s lives. These friendships weren’t easy (is any kind of great relationship easy?) but boy oh boy did we add richness to one another’s life. Being older I’ve tried, with intention, to make new friends, but it hasn’t happened, people too busy with their lives, and I may not have these types of gorgeous friends as I had, but I don’t give up. There is this acceptance of reality, and patience and grace are now at my table. Now no expectations, but I realize., after they’ve gone, how blessed I’ve been to have known them. As I’m sharing this I’m missing and yearning for them , to pick up the phone, no texting with any of them, and having our long , wonderful conversations, which were sometimes painful, but who said blessed relationship s are easy. Now I have gratitude for each day., and feel so blessed they were in my life.
I mothered three adorable humans, from infant to preteen in Los Angeles, and then preteen through adulthood on the Central Coast of California. We were a team, through school events, divorce, being a working single mom. One by one they launched...got married...had children...moved away. Now they are scattered across the country in every direction, grandchildren and great grandchildren in tow. And I no longer live in easy to access Los Angeles, but instead, and delightfully, in a rural, tourists in the summer town in Montana, where we are presently almost snowed in...and where there is no airport except through a canyon an hour away. I no longer take for granted that I can see my most loved people in life whenever I want. I do thank God for being alive in the age of Facetime and cheap cell phone service (when I grew up we paid $1 a minute to talk to my grandmother who lived 6 hours away). But oh...I miss them. I'll never take seeing them for granted again.
I can no longer take my parents for granted.
Both passed within the last year. My dad died on April 8, 2022, and my mom joined him in paradise 11 months later, on March 8, 2023. Both were 89 years of age. The grief of losing both is still fresh.
Throughout my life and our relationship, which was complicated at times, I had the illusion that they would always be there.
The last six years altered my perspective and appreciation. With each two-day road trip I would embark on from North Carolina to New York for a visit, my awareness kept reminding me that this could be the last time I saw them. While I looked forward to these visits, there was tension at times. A small house, one bathroom, emotional triggers, old judgments, and the unhealed traumas we collectively shared.
I have begun the ancient Hawaiian practice of Ho’oponopono as part of my healing and forgiveness of them and myself. I believe my mantra, which I try to say while in the theta brain wave state, crosses over the thin veil that separates the worlds.
“I am sorry."
“Please forgive me.”
“I love you.”
“Thank you.”
I am at peace knowing they are finally at peace, and I no longer take my parents for granted.
I am grateful for my pet family, and appreciate them even more than when they were young. Back then, it just felt like they would always be around - I knew differently - but it felt that way - they were part of the fabric of everyday life. But now they are 18, 16 and 14, and I am keenly aware that my time with them is drawing to a close, that within 3 years they may all be gone, and so I cherish them even more, and make sure to do special loving things just to make them extra happy, and enjoy their company greatly. Especially bedtime, when the two cats and the dog are on my bed, and I relish the joy and sweetness of being so deeply loved. :-)
I’m getting my notebook today. I’ve gone from,”no way am I doing that! to ok, I’ve never done it or anything close,” but Miss Suleika could sell ice in -40 degree weather! I’m from Bangor, Maine!
“There will be discomfort, to be sure, but it will be discomfort born like the beating of new wings against the walls of a holy chrysalis.” I loved this line.
I can no longer take my marriage and child for granted. I am recovering from late pregnancy loss and very lucky to be parenting my living miracle child after a decade-long battle with illness and infertility. My partner and I have chosen to grow closer through it all while we have witnessed others around us have the children they want, but lose the marriage--or keep the love, but not reach the other shore of parenthood after similarly protracted battles and choose other meaningful life paths. I am now dedicated to telling these stories, revealing that family building is a trip through initiatory woods for so many of us, and rarely do we emerge on the other side with the family we imagined since childhood, nor the same selves we were when we started. But many of us do find that the discomfort of it all was the discomfort of the chrysalis--and what lies outside of it is brilliant, terrifying, and open, if we are brave enough to break out and make the most of its wild, precious invitation.
"NOURISHING" That's the word!! It describes perfectly how I feel about The Isolation Journals. Each week, I look forward to Sunday mornings and reading the newsletter. I brew up my once a week Turkish coffee, curl up on my favourite couch spot and savour the words, stories and images. Sometimes my emotions appear and well up in the back of my eyes.
"BEAUTIFUL" Indeed, all of the beautiful images of the work are in themselves nourishing. I often think of how much work is involved in this "... Endless and Proper Work." All of the writing, the research, the amazing artwork and editing that take place and result in the extraordinary final result.
Suleika, you are a treasure. Intrepid and fearless, even when not in the best of health (to put it mildly), you let little stop you from this work. The world (whoever that may be) is very fortunate to have met you, even if not in person. I'm sure we all feel like we know you and you are our friend, as you address us in the newsletter. I think it was Jon who said, "We love you even though we don't really know you."
Praise to the downward dog!!
Have a lovely Sunday, everyone. :)
After losing my husband a year ago, I realize that for nearly 5 years of full-time caretaking, I took for granted the ever present access, the way in, to zen and the art of slow moving; whether cleaning, cooking, thinking or writing - I now have time and space to act with intention. No longer out of control like a windswept castaway plastic bag - OD'd on cortisol - nightmarish..... I had been in a constant frenzy running from bedside, to pharmacy, to ER, to doctor appointments with anguish at every turn. Now my moves are deliberate and intentional - affording me quietude and pauses which are rife with reward.
Wow, as I age I sure see how good health is the foundation one needs to “do life”. Not that I didn’t realize it along the way because I worked in healthcare for 40 plus years. I saw first hand the implications and problems associated with health issues. Our bodies age and often associated with that are chronic ailments like arthritis, and there are more severe issues that compromise our lives. I’m lucky to seemingly be in pretty good shape, but as we know, that doesn’t last!
I thought you might get a kick out of this- At 70 years old I decided to start journaling with the 30 day project. Three words in, my pen ran out of ink. Irony at its finest.. new pen.. and onward!!
I love the Mary Oliver quote: “To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.” I cannot believe that there was a time when I didn't notice dogs. I am an alcoholic. I drank quite a lot until I was 38. I am now 51. I will celebrate 13 years sober on May 7th (most likely!). When I was very young, I begged for a dog. My mom would promise me. We never got a dog. Then, we did. I had a black lab named Cinder. She was sweet. She had puppies on my bed. My mom was also an alcoholic. So, one day my dog and her puppies were gone. I don't remember the explanation. A dog show came to my school in 3rd grade and I thought the black lab was my dog.
I think for many years after that, for many reasons, I simply didn't notice dogs. I'm sure they were there, but my attention was elsewhere. After I got sober, I started to notice everything around me, including dogs. Now, I love them so much. I pay attention to everything. It is a blessing and a curse. It is my superpower and my downfall on a daily basis. We cannot have a dog where we live right now. I commune with every dog I pass on the street. I remember one of my sobriety revelations was that dog is god spelled backward. It was one of those days when I needed to see the truth and there it was. Simple. My dream is to live somewhere with lots of land and lots of dogs. I will take them in and pay attention to them.
I try so hard not to take things for granted, but I do. I am human.
When I shattered my spine six years ago- the bone fragments narrowly missing my spinal cord- I swore I would never take my ability to walk for granted ever again. But I have.
When I began having complications from the two surgeries it took to repair my spine, I swore I would never take not being in pain for granted ever again. But I have.
When I developed intestinal problems that made it difficult to eat, I swore I would never take the ability to digest food for granted ever again. But I have.
When circumstances left me with a less than desirable living situation- a house with a rodent infestation, unsafe water, and mold- I swore I would never take living in a healthy environment for granted ever again. But I have.
When the pandemic took away my ability to see loved ones and consumed me with a sense of urgency and anxiety, I swore I would never take face-to-face contact and time for granted ever again. But I have.
The sky is never more blue, the sunshine never more beautiful, and the fresh air never more sweet than when we are denied these things, like during a hospital stay or other difficult time, but eventually it loses some of its magic if we are lucky enough to have enough days pass in between. Is this hedonic adaptation?
Tragedies and hard times leave pain and fear in their wake but also a deeper sense of life and humanity. I feel guilty for not feeling grateful for every minute that I am not in pain or for when things are flowing a little easier, and sometimes I feel like I cause the next bad thing to happen because I forgot and took it for granted again.
The only anecdote I have found for this is to be present with the little moments of peace and joy- to notice the fluffy white clouds passing over me when I look up during a walk around my neighborhood if I have the strength on that day; to indulge in an warm gooey oatmeal cookie from my favorite coffee shop if my stomach is feeling okay on that day; to notice the soft sheets as I slide into bed each night, take a few deep breaths and sigh them out and pray for another day tomorrow to notice things and learn things and maybe practicing loving people a little bit better.
The blue sky. Two summers ago, wildfire smoke throughout the West blew in and made the air in our box canyon resemble the cloudy water of a fish bowl in need of cleaning. We couldn't even see the mountains. I was reminded of the one time I visited Hong Kong and the pollution was so bad, I almost started crying when I viewed a tree trunk whose branches and leaves disappeared in the smog. I checked the site Purple Air daily, which told me I should exercise indoors. Then, last summer, the monsoon rain season returned and kept the fires hundreds of miles away. The sky was naturally gray on rainy days, then brilliant bluebird blue on sunny ones. I will never take that blue for granted again.
Allowing that space and quiet for intuition to be heard is so important. These days it's too easy to spend all of our time distracted, filled with noise, our brains have got used to it and start to itch when it goes away. But all of my creativity and ideas show up when I get really really quiet ❤️
So much creativity and spirituality in this group. I am a 3 in creativity and a 0 in spirituality. Have I wandered into an alternate universe? Loving returning to journaling though.
Seems my genes gave me organizational/perfection abilities that I took for granted, and always in a positive way. It was difficult for me to maintain a journal, I now realize, because my "abilities" made it much too much work! I've recently found myself jotting down thoughts whenever they come to me, and adding them to a messy type of journal that I am enjoying now at 73!