Bohemian Love

This morning I was thinking about love and being ministered to personally by my family while staying in their homes.  As part of my commuter strategy for my new job, I often stay mid week at one of the houses of my relatives- daughters, son, and aunt.  This way, I'm hoping to tread lightly in their personal space and not burn anyone out from continually giving me shelter.  I could commute each day back to Provo, but right now, I don't want to.  It's been most helpful giving additional time to explore Salt Lake and familiarize myself with its' various recreational resources available for my clients.  I am growing to appreciate Salt Lake more as I focus on all the good this fine state has to offer.

 But more than the wealth of natural, cultural, and recreational resources, family members are my greatest resource. Spending time with them individually is a priceless opportunity to be in their presence.  They serve and support me in the most wonderful ways.  It's a new stage in my life as I travel with my carry-on luggage (my knapsack on my back) singing "I am a happy wanderer" while couch surfing with relatives- even though most of the time, I'm in a series of very comfortable beds.

  I bought a brightly colored, bohemian looking bedroll for $7 that's bringing me a lot of joy these days-mostly for the current lifestyle it symbolizes.  It reminds me of my old 70s looking children's sleeping bag with it' brightly colored flowers and print reading, "Blondes are fun, Redheads are for real, and Brunettes are groovy."   Sleeping in the homes of family members truly is "groovy" and these days I'm feeling the love in each one of my temporary living situations.  

My son's house is the most Bohemian in the classic definition of the word, "a socially unconventional person, especially one who is involved in the arts."  His home is so full of life-literally.  He is surrounded by his animal family of dogs and cats as well as the temporary animal tenants from the doggy day care service he supports. These animals are receiving attentive, loving care.  His home is also full of original music, writing and art.  He is continually creating.   He is an amazing one man band. Each nook and cranny tells a story. This rental home will eventually be torn down by the owner to make room for a multi-plex, but in the meantime, it is being filled with life, love, and art.  It is beautiful in an unconventional way.  

 I recently paid for some health services for my son in exchange for massages.  Though he is not a certified massage therapist, in my books he is.  It is precious currency and this energy work takes a lot out of him.  He has to be in a certain frame of mind and sometimes he's just doesn't have the energy.  It is an energy transfer and it is difficult for him to put himself in that situation to take on the pains of someone else when he is already dealing with his own pain.  

So I understood when this week, he said he wasn't really up for a massage.  However, later he stated he could give me 30 minutes.  I am grateful for whatever he can give as I make my way to the massage table.  I've had several professional massages.  They are great but there is something unique about having my son serve me in this fashion; It is truly an unselfish act.  It is an act of love. It is artistic expression.    

He took more than 30 minutes as his massage choreography was perfectly synced to his musical playlist.  He didn't rush through it, put minimal effort into it or do it in a "I have to get this over with" type of attitude.  I am much more selfish and weak when I give massages.  I suck.   He was totally present and considerate.  It fired off so many of my love languages:  acts of service, quality time, touch, and gifts.  For me, it was as tangible as any gift.  It was what he had to offer, and he offered his all, even though he was already emotionally depleted.    I was spiritually touched by his loving ministration to the needs of his mother.  His service was sacred to me.  

It was also symbolic of the loving service I am receiving from so many different hands from other family members.  They are also giving me what they can give. They are personally attending to my individual needs.  It is so much!  I am overwhelmed with their generosity.  I so appreciate each kind act and consideration for my person.  It is a beautiful thing to behold.  It really is a "groovy kind of Bohemian love."   Thank you family! 

My Wonderful Extended Family

 This morning I was thinking about my family.  My nephew's son, Sean Patrick O'Malley (age 16) achieved a perfect score on his SAT exam. As a consequence, Harvard university reached out to him and told him they were interested in his success.  I've told people I know, and people I don't really know about his success.  I'm am not only proud of Sean Patrick, but I take pride in his accomplishments-I own them in part, for he is family and I am part of this great extended O'Malley family.

   When family members make good choices, I rejoice. When good things happen to them, I feel happy.  When they feel happy,   I feel happy with them.   When they make poor choices, I mourn.  When bad things happen, I mourn.  I feel hurt with them.  Their success, is my success.  Their pain is my pain. The stronger the connection, the more I really feel these emotions with them.  The more I am connected to the person, the more I am able to rejoice or mourn.  The more I am connected, the more I care.   The end game is empathy.  It's all about connection.  Or as Brene Brown put it, "Empathy fuels connection."  I believe that. Not saying I always get it right.  At times I stumble in my communication with my loved ones resulting in a major disconnect.  However, I keep trying to increase my empathetic responses. I have lots of good examples to follow.

One powerful example of a connected empathetic family is the Porras Clan.  My daughter married into a wonderful big Mexican family.  Under the direction of their patriarch and matriarch, Alfonso and Alejandra Porras, they get together often to share their lives and care about one another.  They just recently went an amusement park with all the families.  Throughout the year they celebrate and recreate together.  Their large extended family gets together for every birthday complete with large inflatables, amazing food  and homemade piñatas.  I think Alejandra has made over 70 of these masterpieces-one for each child and grandchild over the past 10 years.  Each piñata takes several days to make.  The siblings work together at their father's candy factory.  They also get together to work out at a gym most mornings to support each other with their health goals.  The family all showed up to cheer on Alfonso when he ran his marathon.  All the cousins play soccer together. I could go on an on-and that is not even mentioning the constant stream of everyday service these family members do for each other from cleaning, cooking, babysitting, moving, and financial and emotional support.

  It is absolutely wonderful that my grandchildren are growing up in an extended family.  They love their cousins like brothers.  Each auntie and uncle look after each other's children.  They care about their welfare, sincerely. They spend so much time together that they truly know each others hearts and minds.  It is a family knit together in unity and love.  It is a most valuable social resource.

Extended families who barely get together cannot expect to achieve these results.  Extended families members who refuse to show up will also miss out on the potential of social support as well.  Sometimes infrequent gatherings result in interactions characterized by awkwardness, misunderstandings, competition, comparing, judgment, guilt and shame. In the fervent desire to connect, people stumble and fall, stumble and fail, stumble and disconnect.  I have been in such environments but I have also been in social environments that felt like one big happy Mexican extended family.  Organized religion, or church is one such example in my life.  I can honestly say, I have felt connected to each ward family I have been a member of.  It has truly been one of the most glorious social and spiritual resources in my life.  

One of the reasons I have been going up to Salt Lake so much during the past few months is to help my daughter and her family access valuable resources in her new community including their church. In a perfect world, her new ward, The Butler 3rd ward, can function much like her wonderful Mexican family.  The potential is there for a extended church family.  I just don't think you can have too many people to care about and who in turn can care about you.  Like the aunties looking out for each other's children, the primary leaders and teachers can come to know and love my grandbabies and care for their welfare.  Relative strangers can become spiritual relatives loved as real brothers and sisters. Relief Society and serving others, can give opportunities for my daughter to share her heart and mind and feel truly understood. 

Social support through organized religion in general, is an amazing force throughout the world.  Spirituality can be individual, but fellowship happens in groups-groups of people that many times end up feeling like a family knit together in unity and love.  We can own each others joys and sorrows, successes and failures through empathetic connection.  Ideally, with this connection, we can do something about it to support one another throughout our lives in our big wonderful extended global family.   

 

Have You Tried Your Very Best?

 Recently I had the question posed to me, "Have you tried your very best?"  It was in regards to my marriage. It triggered a series negative emotions, unkind thoughts as well as knee jerk defensive reactions.  It brought to mind a series of questions including, "Have you tried you very best as a woman?  Have you tried your very best as a mom?  Have you tried your very best in the workplace?  Have you tried your very best regarding gospel living?  

It was followed by a comment about the importance of truthfully responding- calling into question my integrity.  Though I had taken offense, the whole experience highlighted one of my core issues of being enough or doing "all I can do" to be acceptable.  This dis-ease comes from being judged and finding myself lacking in one or many areas.  It also alludes to the most important future moment of the final judgement.  How I don't want to be found missing the mark, not being enough, not having done enough, not having really "done my best."  Can't I always do more?  Can't I always be a little better? It's not even really about perfectionism, it's more about giving a quantitative or qualitative rendering of "my best efforts."  

Though this question has lingered in my mind for many years, I remember a sentinel moment where I felt like my question had truly been answered.  It was a giant "AHA" moment combined with an electric confirmation of its' veracity.   It was at a singles conference, of all places.  I actually really liked the EFY sensibility of all the workshops for the older crowd.  I don't know if I've written about this before. If so, I think it's worth repeating.

During the brief talk, the speaker (I can't even remember his name) referenced a scripture, "2 Nephi 25:23: “For we labor diligently to write, to persuade our children, and also our brethren, to believe in Christ, and to be reconciled to God; for we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do.” 

He provided insight into the phrase " all we can do."  Instead of emphasizing the unlimited "all" word, the emphasis was on the "we can do"-almost suggesting a limiting quality or finite, sub par performance. He helped me understand that Christ provides the 100% best effort through his atonement.  It's NOT a math equation where I try my best and do 10% and he makes up the difference.  He is the difference.  He makes all the difference.  Doing what "I can do" by exercising faith in his infinite, unlimited atonement enables me to access his complete 100% grace in spite of my limited version of doing my best. 

I will never be enough, but with faith in Him, Jesus Christ, that is completely okay.  He is my judge.  He truly knows the desires of my heart and my sincere efforts to exercise faith in him.  I rely on his judgement.  If there is room for improvement or redirecting my energy, I want to increase my faith, even strive for a more perfect faith in him and his perfect atonement.  

 With increased understanding, I have personally felt the spirit tell me over and over again that I truly am enough.  Others may not agree.  But that's okay. He accepts my offering.  He accepts my efforts as a woman, wife, mother, worker bee, or disciple. I do not have to justify that to anyone. 

Bluebird

 This morning I was thinking about being a true bluebird.  Sometime between kindergarten and first grade, my mother signed me up for bluebirds and volunteered to be the adult leader.  Bluebirds were the youngest age group in the Campfire girls organization, very similar to Girl Scouts.  Our uniforms were red, white, and blue in contrast to the drab brown garb of the “ Brownies” from G S A. Instead of earning patches, we earned beads and placed them on Native American looking gowns and moccasins. Honors were awarded in a “Council Fire” at least that’s what I remember from the lyric from our procession as we sang,“ We come, we come to our council fire, with measure tread and slow, to light the fire of our desire, to light the fire of Wo-He-Lo. Wo-He-Lo, Wo He-Lo!

Though Wo-He-Lo was not a Native American word (it was an acronym for work, health, and love) there were other references to the culture.  The name of our day camp was Camp Suanga and I still have a picture of me holding up an Indian corn husk doll we made there.   I was oblivious to all these themes at the time, but have recently learned more of Native American culture.  I know they sometimes refer to having a spirit animal along with a profound connection to Mother Earth.

My spirit animal is definitely  a blue bird or song bird like the black capped chickadee.  I like to flit about and go all over the place.  So I really wasn’t surprised with my visceral reaction to my recent job interview, work expectations and tour of facility and resources.  Though a generous offer, validation of my profession and a stimulating opportunity, it was not a good fit for me, Little miss Erinbird.   

As I tried to understand the sinking feeling in my gut, the image of a little bird came to mind.  I felt like a canary going down into coal mine to work out the remainder of my days, with clipped wings, in a cage, with limited air and light.  This impressions came as I imagined running processing psychotherapy groups, doing multiple daily assessments, and sharing an office to complete my 3 hour a day worth of documentation.  I really would not be using recreational tasks involving music, art or movement. Space was restricted and resources sparse due to valid safety concerns.  This was the job and I would need to measure up to fit in and meet the established expectations.

Once I turned my attention to the other work opportunity, providing recreational therapy services to 2 separate locations, I started to feel lighter and brighter.   I realized it was an opportunity to make my own schedule and expectations as I set forth to present my proposal to administration.  Though it was uncomfortable and challenging to market myself and what I could potentially do for their organization, I really felt like the cage had been opened and it was time to take flight.  And I did. 

This has been my first week flitting about between campuses. I have been overwhelmed with feelings of gratitude for the wealth of space, resource and supportive work associates to put my plan into action.  My little bluebird heart is singing a happy song. 

Improve the Moment

 This morning I was thinking of my stress response and how to improve the next moment as a way to exercise faith.  It was only a week ago, that I felt cold/flu symptoms and was reminded I should test for Covid.  I  tested positive and spent the majority of the week quarantined, trying to recover.  On Monday, my boss called saying that he was not only Covid positive, but that administration had decided to discontinue our day treatment program and suggested I contact HR within the larger corporation for possible opportunities utilizing TR (Therapeutic Recreation).  I really wasn't in the state of mind/body to receive or respond to this news, nevertheless, the door was closing and it was time to find another open door.  

Though not feeling well, I took slow, deliberate, micro-steps to totally accept what is and do my best to "improve the next moment" and "make decisions aligned with my values".  These are concepts I have been studying with DBT continuing education credits online.  I found my PHD doppelganger on the internet with whom I seriously would like to do a Vulcan "mind meld" with. She even has a daughter named "Hailey!" (https://www.docsnipes.com).  Anyway, practicing radical acceptance and improving the next moment are crucial distress tolerance skills I not only want to teach others, but first practice myself.  And I just so happen to have plenty of stressful events giving me a perfect opportunity to practice them.  

Not once this week did I feel panicked or even emotionally triggered, especially since I had received similar news 16 months ago.  With the assurance that "everything will be okay" I spent my time reaching out to HR, talking with other clinical directors, completing additional counseling CEU's, learning and creating music in "Bandlab" for future use with students,  updating my resume and casually looking on "Indeed."  I was magnetically drawn to a position that I originally passed on 16 months ago, but now felt prompted to take action and apply for it.  I texted the clinical director and asked if I might be considered.  She texted back "Absolutely!"  I set up an interview for next week and will most likely be offered the job. 

My current employer wanted me to show up for work on Friday, so I masked up, stayed away from the students and started to gather my belongings from the day program.  During my first year with this company, I have worked 3 separate programs providing recreational therapy services.  First a clinical boarding school, then residential treatment, then a IOP day program. In many ways, it has been an incredible opportunity for learning, growth, innovation, flexibility, creative expression and clarity.   I have no regrets.  I am sad that our day program is closing.  I invested heavily and feel a keen sense of loss. I had great hopes that will never come to fruition.  I know I am not the only one who is experiencing loss due to this financial failure.  Yet hope is a real thing.

Hope shines brightly.  Better days are ahead.  I have one last week with my current students.  During this time we will focus on distress tolerance and the IMPROVE acronym combined with various recreational tasks. I will encourage them to make slow, deliberate, steps to totally "accept what is" and do their best to "improve the next moment" and "make decisions aligned with their values".  It will become a template for my future work.   

I feel peace.  I feel directed, even led to which next steps to take for well-being.  My object of faith is not in some super-wow youtube psych counselor or latest greatest evidenced based mental health practice but rooted in Jesus Christ.  Faith in Jesus Christ, Hope in Jesus Christ energize and infuse me with acceptance of what is and power to move on.  He supercharges my meager capacity to IMPROVE the next moment.  

It Will Be Okay

 Last weekend my mother was having difficulties with her vision and went to the hospital.   She learned she had a "mini" stroke with some clots, A-fib heart irregularities, and some type of aneurism.  The neurologist considering everything that was going on in her body, said to her, "You are one lucky woman!  My mom felt like the he didn't really sympathize with her vision complaints compared to what losses she could have been experiencing.  Yet for my mom, working vision is crucial to her daily schedule.  She loves to read, watch TV, browse Facebook posts and drive herself places-all requiring a certain degree of visual acuity.  

Generally speaking, my mom has been pretty healthy over the last 85 years.  She has experienced some issues requiring medical attention including surgeries, brief hospitalization, chronic conditions requiring ongoing medication, but on the whole, she has been high functioning across most domains.  I know she will not live forever, but I'm always hopeful she will be like her aunties that lived into their late 90's.  I know aging is a series of managing losses. It's not pretty whether we're watching love ones age or going through the process ourselves.  

When I got the call that my mother was in the hospital, I couldn't help but wonder if she would be okay.  Or is this when she dies?  What abilities might she lose? What will she be able to do?  What will her quality of life be like for the next 10 years?  Will she have 10 more years?  Questions like these not only go through my mind, but they most assuredly go through my mom's mind as well.

Why else would she comment to the nurses something like, "It's alright if I die because I have 3 children with active temple recommends." She answered questions to curious nurses who asked what a "temple" and "recommend were.  She invited them to be in her hospital room when she received a priesthood blessing from her son.  She wanted them to see.  She has made a covenant to be a witness of Jesus Christ at all times and in all places.   She wanted to share her faith, that truly, "Everything will be okay."   

When talking with her over the phone, she shared the above experience and casually mentioned that she called her team-primary teacher to let her know that she would not be there that Sunday for the lesson for the children.  She's that dutiful.  She's that committed. 

As our phone conversation continued, I thought about my mom's faithfulness and testimony of the Savior and made a connection to my recent studies from the week's "Come Follow Me" lesson.  I thought of Job's faithfulness through all his adversity and his testimony that "I know my Redeemer liveth."  I was overwrought with emotion and could not speak.  I wanted to but was physically choked up.  I had to say what I was thinking and feeling to my mother in the hospital.  Finally I sputtered and sobbed the words out, telling her how very grateful I am to have her life long example of faith in Jesus Christ. Not only through words, not only through church service, but also through her daily choices in everyday living-the good, the bad, and everything in between-my mom believes in Jesus Christ and wants to follow him.  This I know.

Though I was emotional, it was a sweet spiritual experience that helped me feel the spirit and reinforce my fasting that day in her behalf.  Oh how I love my mom.  Oh how I appreciate her example of faith.  And with this faith, I too can move forward into this new stage of life and our mother-daughter relationship. 

She is back from the hospital now recovering and doing her best to do what she can to access her daily routine. She has a lists of appointments as well as new medications.  She will make necessary adjustments.  Life will continue to change. She will not be able to come to Utah to visit rather it is my turn to come to California more often.   It will be different for sure, but taking a page from my mother's playbook, "It will be okay."

Universal Knowledge

 I'm not a think on my feet kind of gal.  Whenever someone asks me a question, I freeze and all the information I have previously learned becomes jumbled and irretrievable.  This is not good practice.  Especially when the information is of vital importance and the person asking the question is one of the most important people in my life.  My son was using a new system of note taking that looks like a complex star chart.  Like all of us, he was trying to make sense of his place in the universe, especially in the grand scale of time and historic existence.  If we can't wrap our head around the answers, the information can wrap up our head in a big jumbled mess of confusion.   

There surely is a universe of information-like stars in the sky, like grains of sand, like the atoms swirling around, like digital data in cyberspace.   It's overwhelming when trying to make sense of it all or try to organize it in a helpful way.  Or to know where to start?  What knowledge really matters and when does it matter?  Why do I exist?  Who am I? What's my purpose?  How does it all fit together?  Does it fit together?  Is it chaos?  What is "it" anyway?  Is it possible to think too much?  

Simplicity helps.  I know who I am, where I came from, why I'm here, where I'm going.  I learned the  standard gospel answers years ago contained in The Plan of Salvation, Plan of Happiness, Plan of Redemption,   Rather than rehearse all the knowledge I've been acquiring over the past 59 years, I want to simply it even further.  In all the learning, learn wisdom.  Supposedly, my gray hairs suggest that through the years I've acquired some deal of wisdom.  At least that's my goal as in Proverbs 4:7 reads "Wisdom is the principal thing...and with all they getting get understanding".  The more I understand about the plan, the more I see how everything fits, every piece of knowledge comes together in a great, organized whole, complete, creation or world.  God's construct is big enough and expansive enough for all truth.  I don't have to leave anything behind, cover my eyes, or pretend it doesn't exist.  Faith and questions can exist together.  I do not have to choose between science and religion.  

I know things.  I really do.  But of all the things I know, the most important is not what I know but WHO I'm trying to know-my Father.  Even though I'm about as significant as cosmic dust particle, My Father in Heaven KNOWS me and cares about me.  I share the lyrics from my very first solo I sang as a young child  "I know my Father lives and loves me too.  The spirit whispers this to me and tells me it is true.  He sent me here to earth, by faith to live His plan.  The spirit whispers this to me and tells me that I can." 

 My greatest quest for knowledge is not only know He lives and know His plan but to know my Father who already knows me!   That will only be accomplished through daily efforts to connect with him.  I want to connect to his power.  He makes sense of the chaos and inner turmoil.  Little by little, I'm developing my relationship with Him.  Each time I feel His spirit in my heart and head telling me something is true or what I should do in the next moment, I know him better than before. That's my priority.  He's my priority.  And if I know Him, he'll teach me everything that is most important for me to know in order to sift through the sea of knowledge to find the treasured truths.  

Where to start digging?  I say, the "Come Follow Me" app.  Each morning I like to click on the icon picture of Jesus and see what my "Come Follow Me" reading assignment is for the week.  It has been the BEST thing I relied on during Covid to feel connection.  It's the best thing to connect with him now.  Followed with prayer and listening to the spirit, that's about as simple as I can make it as a way to navigate through the sea of knowledge.  It makes sense.  It's simple.  It's my easiest, most simple way to approach universal knowledge and not get sucked into a black hole.  

Bound

 This morning I was thinking about boundaries and being bound. Some hear the word  “boundaries” and immediately think of limitations;  You can’t do this or that or our natural aversion to the word “no”.  In a world full of “Yes you can!”  Boundaries seem to counter the claim,” I manifest all with my awesome biology of belief.”  Boundaries tend to impede on our God given agency.

Historically, in order to exercise this agency, God put in place a boundary-you can eat of any tree in the garden, do whatever you want but of the tree of knowledge of good and evil thou mayest not eat. This boundary created the perfect conditions for Adam and Eve to actually exercise their agency.  The violation of this boundary resulted in separation and disconnection.  Their spirit body would be disconnected or separated from the physical body at death and God’s children would be separated from his presence during their mortal journey.

Many spiritual practices seek to restore this once had connection with our maker.  We pray, we express gratitude, we ponder scriptures, we go to church , we serve, we obey commandments with the intent of feeling the spirit of the Lord. We strive to be connected with Him and be connected with other humans.

Back to the first humans in the Bible, Once they violated the boundary with the tree of knowledge of Good and evil,  God put another boundary to prohibit them from eating from the tree of life.  This time with cherubim and the flaming sword to guard the tree and protect the way of life.  Now  that’s a firm boundary!  initially, they could eat of it and now they couldn’t

circumstances had changed.  

At the same time God set up a special kind of boundary called a covenant.  It’s main purpose is to bind us to him-to tether us to him.  We can still be connected even with the incredible forces of separation swirling around us and the swirling forces within us…our appetites and passions.

We covenant to keep our appetites and passions within the bounds the Lord has set.  This includes sexual relations only with those we are legally and lawfully wedded to. This includes appetites related to the word of wisdom.  This includes the payment of tithes and offerings when perhaps passions would dictate spending money on wordly pleasures first or make them the first priority. All is done to protect this bond between us and the Lord. 

“I the Lord am bound when you do what I say, but if ye do not, ye have no promise.” Instead of viewing being bound as a restrictive negative concept, I can view it as a positive , secure attachment. something I can bet my very life on-life line!  Think of the actress Helen Hunt and Bill Paxton in the final scenes of “Twister” in the eye of the tornado.  They definitely would not be together forever or whatever if their chain or strap didn’t hold to the pole they were bound to.  They would have just gotten sucked up into the tornado. 

 Covenants are the chains binding us to our loved ones past and present.  Covenant chains bind us to God. Under the proper authority, these chains hold.  God designed then to hold-a welding link. 

 

I don’t think I’ve ever thought of my covenants as boundaries but I suppose they are things I can or cannot do ( obey, sacrifice, consecrate) I gladly use my agency and choose to bind myself,  to forge an unbreakable bond with him, the author of my salvation.

It just doesn’t make sense to me to resist and complain about boundaries like sex or drugs or other lifestyle commandments and in the same breath say we.want to go to the temple.  For we are really saying we want to make covenants in the Temple to bind ourselves more fully to God.  

First we need to be comfortable with the chains that safely bind us to Christ now.  We will realize these covenant chains safety secure us to the only true bedrock foundation of Jesus Christ. May we cherish the commandments. and see then as our way to connect with God.  Remember, these binding covenants represent a two-way street between each one of us and the all powerful, unlimited God . He is bound to us too!  We are connected. 

Hoodlum Boys

 This morning I was thinking about my hoodlum boys-that is the budding juvenile delinquents I've had the chance to work with during this past year.  I use the "Yakety Yak" reference to "hoodlum friends" because it reminds me of my dad.  For he was, in some respects a hoodlum.  However, it's not quite a fair label for my students but it some cases it surely fits. I mean who thinks it makes sense to shoplift while renting ski gear and then explain to me how he needs to commit a more serious crime, "like murder or something" so he can be sent to a specific prison to avenge the gang death of his cousin?  Or thinks that ganging up on a peer and attacking him in his sleep leaving him with a broken nose is fair game?  Well, sometimes my students did.

Working with this population of teen boys rounds out my experience in working with at risk youth from ages 7-18-both male and female.  When taking on a new job, I was required to straddle 2 programs and provide RT services for both.  The one dealt with more behavioral issues of students in residential treatment, the other serviced a less acute population requiring only day treatment.  With changing work landscape continually, it has certainly been a ride-at times a very rough ride.  For you see, these older wizened boys did not have the same response to me presence as say a hyperactive, young, fairly innocent child.

I remember walking with my mentor as she was showing me the ropes regarding all things RT when working pediatrics.  All the children called out her name as if she was a rock star.  It caused quite a disruption in the school area.  Over time, it became my name they enthusiastically called out and I quickly learned why.  RT was their ticket to some semblance of freedom-of normalcy- of getting out of their locked down facility to do something they considered "fun."  We held the keys.  I remember one of my interns pointing out that my red plastic clipboard was actually a trigger for the kids. They got all riled up wondering if they were on the off-grounds list.  Those were the days.

Not so with my hoodlums.  They had much more freedom since they went off-grounds all the time with various staff members.  Rather than viewing me as a person they saw me as an obstacle or even as a vehicle- or someone they had to put up with for a brief period of time.  I had to develop a thick skin quick to deal with their comments.  I remember one day bringing a humanitarian service project to work on and a student rolling his eyes, refusing to participate and saying, Erin- "Why would you think we would EVER want to do ANYTHING like this?"  The only time he was even half way respectful to me was when he thought I might be able to open up the music studio for him.  Other than that- it was pure contempt.  

I continued to fight the good fight and not take things too personal while coming up with interventions to increase engagement.  Some groups were decent, others not so much, but I kept trying and found joy in serving this challenging population.   There was joy when witnessing the boy with size 19 shoe and another boy with a prosthetic leg have a successful snow experience while riding snow bikes after many failed attempts with previous snowboarding and skiing equipment.   There was joy when "jamming" together with the piano, guitar, drums and making original music together.   There was joy when putting my arm around a youth and sincerely wishing him future success and expressing confidence in his abilities even after knowing of his horrific past deeds.    I was legitimately sad when learning I would need to leave them and focus on the day program students.  

On my last day working with them, I walked into their classroom to prepare for a fishing activity.  I was greeted with a loud chorus of "Erin!"  It brought back memories from those early rock star days and made me chuckle.  I was also touched when earlier one of the boys helped me clean up after a messy painting activity and expressed concern about my skin cancer and personal life.  Some students, some of the time, treated me as a real person.  And I saw them as people as well, not just as juvenile delinquents.  It was great reminder of the truth I've learned over and over, "We are all people with problems."    It was my privilege to have the experience working with these fine young men or "hoodlums."  Yakety Yak...Don't Talk Back! 

My Voice

This morning I was thinking of having a voice that is heard.  The other day I brought my 41 year old cheer megaphone to work to encourage my students to participate in an open mic activity.  I used the megaphone as a symbol of making our voices heard.  It reminded me of a phrase from a Dear Evan Hansen song suggesting  "If you only say the word...from across the silence your voice is heard".

My students need to be heard.  Many times, their voice is a cry for help.  Their behaviors have spoken loudly and have been addressed by parents seeking treatment for their child's unhealthy personal expression. As with so many others in the mental health profession, I encourage self-expression through psychotherapy, writing, art, music, drama or other opportunities to open up for honest disclosure, reflection and insight.  

Besides the visual aide of the megaphone, I also brought my yearbook so the students could pick me out of a line up of cheerleaders.  I also performed a cheer using a microphone.  Of course, they thought it was dumb, but it gave me reason to pause and reflect about my value of having a voice.  As I thumbed through the pages of my ancient relic yearbook, I thought about other ways I sought to be seen and heard as a teen.  Whether it was my performance as Ado Annie in the the school play, or my involvement in student council, my voice was heard-no matter how high pitched and grating.  

In church my voice was heard through the many youth talks, primary music presentations as chorister, leadership councils, and special musical numbers singing solos and duets. From an early age, I enthusiastically raised my hand to answer questions posed by my teachers or get up in front of the congregation and bear my testimony at the pulpit.  I wanted to be involved but I also wanted to be heard.  

In college, my voice was drowned out by the large talent pool of BYU students. Nevertheless, I found small ways to be an influencer, long before the days of social media.  Whether it was in my interpersonal relationships with friends and acquaintances, service in church callings, or even serving a mission for my church in Spain, all gave voice to what I thought was important.

As a mother, my voice was heard through hundreds of hours of parental instruction-formal and informal, emphasizing family values. They didn't necessarily listen or like what I was saying but sometimes I felt heard and understood.  At times my sons and daughters did not feel seen and heard or that they truly had a voice in our family.  That is something I continue to address in the present as I reach out to them even if it's just to hear the sound of their voice.  I want their voice to be heard. 

In my career, I continue my desire to have a voice or at least some type of influence over my daily work schedule and duties.  I have often had incredible freedom approaching the very broad, generalist responsibilities associated with my title of recreation therapist and put my own spin on it.  I want to be "in the room where it happens" though power structures sometimes do not include me or want to know what I have to say about the matter.  

Church participation continues to provide opportunities to be heard.  Whether in testimony meeting, class member discussions, service and teaching-I feel welcome to share if I so desire.  These days I tend to listen and observe more with less need to be seen and heard. 

I am grateful to use this blog as my voice.  Even if I write and do not publish it for public consumption, It helps to give form and function to my thoughts and feelings.  It also is my small way to fulfil the promise from my patriarchal blessing of being a voice in the community. Though I'm not politically active, at least I can speak up-say something and be heard.  I am so grateful for all the opportunities to have a voice.  Thank you for listening! 

Serious Sunbathing

 This morning I was thinking about my relationship with light and consequences from exposure.  I'm sporting a brand new Frankenstein scar on my increasingly deformed forearm as a result of a recent surgery to remove squamous cell skin cancer.  It's the price I pay and most likely will continue to pay from all my So. Cal beach days and my continued love of sunshine.  

As the doctor was stitching me up, he also noted my unusually thin skin for someone my age and urged caution. This thin skin also increases my sensitivity with near constant itching due to dermatitis and eczema.  Happy Birthday month to me! "One year closer to the grave" as my family lovingly sings each year during our birthday gatherings.  Traditional belief suggest that once plunged into the darkness, souls are encouraged to "go to the light!"   

Going to the light, or seeking after light is good practice for the living as well.  While trying to pick a show last night, I considered watching Batman but had heard  it was "too dark" so I opted for a one of my favorite genre's- death and destruction movies.  The title, "How it Ends" caught my eye.  Big mistake.  STUPID choice.  I'm renaming it, "Boring Road Trip of F-words."  I fast forwarded though it to see images of death and destruction with no satisfaction.  But more than being disappointed with the movie, I was more disappointed with myself.  Was I really "going to the light" or am I on a stupid attention road trip of the profane. (worldly, secular, irreverent etc.)

There are so many voices vying for my attention at any given moment.   Content may contain spiritual cancer causing agents with absolutely no regard for my welfare.  They (whoever "they" are) just want me to watch their stuff- they don't care if I waste my time.  Who would think exposure to some darkness can cause cancer or at the very least destroy brain cells through vapid dialog?  But rest assured, every thing I pay attention to makes it's mark-at least in my memory.  Like skin cells remembering my good times at the beach, my brain stores the info somewhere.  Eventually with persistent exposure , I'll need to medicate it, radiate it or cut it out-unless I want to gradually die to all things spiritual. 

I let the doctor cut and take the larger chunk out of my arm since apparently some people die with this type of squamous cancer.  I don't really believe it.  It seems pretty harmless to me.  I guess I sometimes approach the whole exposure to media darkness with the same nonchalant attitude.  It will be fine.  Slap some VidAngel filters on it.  Whatever it takes for a moment of escapism-for a ride in someone else's reality.  

I'm not on a stupid road trip.  Rather, I'm on a trip to the sun.  Imagine that!   Since I'm going to have some ridiculous scar from the latest procedure, I might as well use it as my new personal tattoo.  My Sally/Jack Skeleton mark can stand as a visual to remind me to bathe in a different kind of sunlight or even moonlight.  Picture the last scene of Jack and Sally coming together in the bright moonlight.  I can "go to the light" even if I'm not dead.  I can soak it in and do some serious sunbathing.    

Beautiful Sight

 This morning I was thinking about a beautiful sight from a recent Easter celebration with my mother and father in-law.  Betty had recently returned from rehabilitation and is recovering from 2 major surgeries on her neck and back.  Both surgeries were intended to decrease her persistent pain and increase her mobility.  It did not have that outcome but with time we hope her mobility will improve and she will also find relief from pain.  

Throughout my 35+ years of knowing this woman, I have seen her deal with numerous physical ailments, as well as the normal degeneration associated with aging.  She is a survivor and a fighter with incredible grit.  But more than just her incredible will to survive is her commitment to personal connection and service.  A recent example was when she called to invite me over to dinner. 

Betty's dinner table provides a symbol of her commitment to physically gather her family and friends.  She prefers sit down formal dinners, expects and demonstrates good manners, and wants people to engage in appropriate dinner conversation.  Nothing is ever rushed.  As was promised in her patriarchal blessing, she has always had enough food on her table to feed her family and an army of other people.  But the food isn't as important as Betty's desire to foster connection through communication and being in each other's presence.  

Last week, Betty was less involved in the conversations around the table.   It may have been because she was not feeling well.  Decreased ability with hearing and sight can also be isolating for many people.  It doesn't surprise me that Betty fights that as well.  She pushes through her limitations to connect with others.

An example of this behavior was after I made a passing comment about a desire to accompany my best friend on one of her humanitarian service missions to Africa.  There is a group that provides vision services for individuals in need and opportunities for lay people to assist with the process.  After finishing our dessert,  I observed Betty scrolling through her phone.  I know social media is very important to Betty and she is extremely active in posting positive messages for her million or so friends. However,  I didn't quite know why she found it so important at that moment to be on Facebook, especially since she is usually so present when interacting with current company.  

 I observed her holding her phone close, squinting and contorting her face as if she was intently looking for something.  Betty put incredible effort into this process.  Finally, she said aloud, "I found it!"  She then proceeded to show me the name of her friend who organizes trips to Africa for humanitarian service.  She also followed up with a Facebook message for the contact. 

 Betty connects with people and then she helps other people connect as well.  She serves with all her might.  People are the most important thing.   She serves and continues to serve-no matter her circumstances, no matter how inconvenient, no matter how much pain she is currently feeling.  It is such a beautiful sight.

I didn't really connect the dots when I was with her, but the next morning, this image of Betty squinting on her phone popped into my mind.  As I told my son about his grandmother's service, I teared up.  It was an image that lingered with me throughout the week.  It is an image I'm inspired by.  It is an image that helps me see what matters most.  I honor her.  I so appreciate her vision.  

User Error

This morning I was thinking about lessons learned from my stupid computer, my stupid video editing program, my stupid work assignment to create a slideshow, my stupid cold sore from all the computer stress, and finally....stupid me.  For as most people know, many computer problems are caused by "user error."  Though it is natural blame the computer or app or whoever, or whatever, it helps to take a step back and ask, "What is my part in causing this problem and what can I do differently?"  

Though I appreciate the freedom that comes from being the only RT in my department, I also miss not having the younger, tech savvy, RT's to whip out a slide show in a moments notice.  It appeared so easy for them to create such professional slideshow/video presentations.  I thought it shouldn't be that hard to duplicate their results.  I'm smart-right?  I can do this! I googled "easy slideshow presentations" and selected "Clipchamp" as a tool.

After spending 20+ hours at home trying to figure things out, I renamed the program "Clipchump" or more accurately clips for chumps...like me.  Initially, I was feeling pretty awesome as I loaded the photos and videos, added transitions, added music etc. I'm beamed with pride with the thought of my burgeoning tech abilities. However as my slideshow reached the 3-5 minute mark, the computer started to make a whirling noise crying out, "I'm working too hard!"  Then it would blink, go to black, and then return with an error message, "Clipchamp stopped working."  I would then follow the instructions of closing the browser, restarting the browser and clicking into the project again.  This happened about 50 times, probably more.  Each time, when I tried to get to the point to edit it again,  the computer would whirl again resulting in the program crashing and ultimately not working. 

For about 3 days,  I went to bed defeated and depleted by "Clipchamp" vowing the next day I would do better.  I would tackle the problem afresh-go back to the drawing board- erase the old video, start a new project, try this and that.  I even upgraded to the paid version just in case that was the cause of the issue.  Not so.  It still crashed under my "heavy load" of a simple student side show with music.  

At one point, I couldn't seem to add one photo to my media.  I repeated the process about 10 times, cursing the program under my breath and screaming, "Why isn't this working?"  Then, as if the computer was talking back to me, it answered, "It's user error.  We computers are perfect.  You guys are the idiots.  Why are you cursing me for your stupidity?"  I realized that the photo I was trying to add had already been added to the program.  Oops.  "You're right,  mighty computer god." User error.

By Friday, I had the makings of an awesome cold sore on my lip brought on by computer stress, too much chocolate and sugar, and sun.  The overexposure to the sun was from spending all day Tuesday up at Sundance teaching skiing, if you could call it that.  I lamented how easy it would be if the students would just follow simple directions instead of working themselves into a overwhelmed stress response and shutting down...not working and unwilling to try again.  

My students labeled skiing as "stupid" and didn't want to have anything to do with the sport.  Their refusal to follow simple directions made me think of my refusal to follow directions in this whole computer fiasco.  Never once did I watch a tutorial or read the supplied directions online.  For some reason I thought I could figure it out on my own by poking around and experimenting. 

I was getting to the give up stage with the video editing software.  My whirling overworked brain was crashing too.  It was time to cut my losses.  I asked my son to help me learn Powerpoint or Google Slides to accomplish my task - screw Clipchamp!  He thoughtfully put on relaxing meditation music and told me to take a break.  

While bathing,  I was thinking of the whirling noise of my overworked computer.  I am working the computer too hard.  I am making this too hard.  I'm trying to use a sophisticated video editing program for a simple slide show.  I'm not editing professional videos into a version of Final Cut Pro.  I'm using the wrong tool in the wrong way.  It really is user error.   

I had a thought pop into my head-call it inspiration.  Don't work the computer program so hard.  Chop it down into bite size easy pieces that the program can handle. Then take the smaller pieces and put them together as if you are editing a video.  After getting a good night's sleep, I tried out the idea. I kept each clip to about 1 minute and tried to only do a couple of processes (transitions, overlays, text, music etc) simplify it as much as possible-not overwhelm it.     I listened to the computer to make sure it was keeping quiet and underworked-not too stressed out.  

It worked!  Enough so that the previous stress dissipated. I was even glad that I spent 20+ hours learning a new skill.  Of course, my son showed me that I could have paid $10 on the Fivr app to hire a person to make my slide show that was a billion times more professional than my current masterpiece.  Well, maybe next time. 

In the meantime, I'm going to take note from my whirling overworked computer teaching me important life lessons: #1-Keep quiet and calm-don't overwhelm self trying to respond to a million requests.  #2- Follow simple directions.  #3- Chunk things down into bite size pieces.  #4-Use the right tool for the right job.  #5- Listen to the voice of inspiration.  That's good advice wise computer gods.  I admit my user-error unworthiness.  

 But, it was not Clipchump's fault, it was my fault.  I was trying to use a 

10 Reasons why I believe in the Wellbriety Movement

 This morning I was thinking about the "Wellbriety Movement" and why I have decided to spend time and energy learning about it.  With these beliefs, I feel comfortable even becoming part of the movement especially in those principles and practices that testify of Christ as Savoir of the world. 

#1- Belief in the Creator.  There is a God.  He is real.  We can reach out to him in prayer-even the Serenity Prayer ending with "Aho" signifying "Amen." He can and does reveal himself to his creations to guide them in their great work on the earth.

#2- Belief in the Unseen World- or Spirit World.  The spirit world exist in this sphere-it is here on the earth.  It is full of real people who visit or stay with us for various reasons. Whether they are are ancestors or not, we are all related, connected to each other as brothers and sisters.  Some have our best interests, others do not.  We can find out what they want, receive their messages give them gifts and help them in tangible ways through ceremony.  

#3 - Belief in Dreams, Visions, and Personal Spiritual Messages.  These tools for communication, including sacred writings attest that we are not alone and can receive divine inspiration to help us know what to do.  Collectively they raise our personal vision to help us see ourselves as we really are and help us become what we are designed to be.   

#4- Belief in Steps of Personal Change.  Relying on the Creator and his help, individuals acknowledge and take accountability for their wrong actions, make amends, move forward with different choices, and serve their fellowman.  

#5- Belief in healing trauma through forgiveness- forgiving the unforgivable.  Whatever the historical trauma is along with the individuals who have inflicted the abuse, forgiveness unlocks the power of peace and potential to heal the generations.

#6- Belief in Suffering, Sacrifice, and Offering as part of ceremony to subjugate the body and strengthen the spirit.  In this weakened state, man is more susceptible to spiritual communication from the unseen world.  Whether it is physical suffering or spiritual suffering, all suffering has the potential of being offered up as a gift for healing of self and others.  Especially when offenses have been committed, this offering can be the most sacred-the flesh offering.  It is important to not waste the suffering, especially when it can be used in this beneficial manner.

#7- Belief in killing yourself ceremonially and accessing the power of transformation for personal change.    Themes of death and renewal, and walking in a newness of life are part of important ceremonial ritual.  

#8-Belief in Cultural Identity as a tool for personal and group identity and a sense of belonging to the great tree of humanity.  Finding out who were are and where we came from links us to our ancestors and living relatives. We can find ways to choose connection with loved ones past and present through are shared culture. Our tribe offers the social support so needed.     

#9-Belief in the importance of sacred Ceremony and Ritual.  Though certain acts and practices may seem strange or weird to observers, these symbolic practices reinforce universal, absolute truths.  They raise our sights to see clearly things as they have been, are and will be.  They help us seek further light and knowledge.   

#10- Belief in setting intentions and reflections.  One of the best habits is verbally putting our intentions into the universe, mindfully taking action throughout the day, and reflecting on choices made and taking accountability for them.   It is goal setting at its' finest with potential for powerful outcomes.