All Shall Be Well

Whatever the circumstances of her life,

including the Black Plague

-- not just once -- but twice --

Julian of Norwich received

this "Showing" from God:

All Shall Be Well

All Manner of Things Shall Be Well

And All Shall Be Well.

What circumstances cloud your days?

How might you imprint this promise over

that situation?

Depression Distractions

Whew!!!

That's not a problem after all!

In the process of dealing with one of those
everyday-life-stressers

I discovered something interesting:

What craziness!
 To find a looming
dragon of depression defeated
because something else threatened!

What distracts you from stress?

Put Your Anger to Good Use: Those @^*&/!# *%/!#@s!

I love the creative ways some people 

throw down the gauntlet 

in the face of trouble and the garbage of life!

Here's a reproach and metaphor I like:

...those microscopic &*/@!# cancer cells! 

(Insert "Old Testament" thoughts of smiting, 

destruction, pestilence, and burnt offerings here).

Hah! Makes me want to adopt this for the DirtyD word. 

Depression lurks in the same insidious way, 

and we similarly wonder if/when

it will launch a surprise attack from within.

So that you can 

use some of this anger in a positive way

I've re-created

a visual journal page for you.

What do you want to glare at Kabuki style?

What pestilence do you want to smite and destroy?

Go for it!!!  

You can highlight and then save or print this image;

it's one that will work well in black & white or color.

Use the label for your battle cry 

or your own list of creative anger-symbols.

Then use expressive gestures or fonts

as you write/scribble/scrawl your thoughts.

(you can place a text-box on the pages

after saving them on your computer.) 

Post or email me a copy of your creation.

Let's put that anger to good use

to name and &*/@!# those &^*@/#!!!*

depressive cancerous *%/!#@s! 

Journal Blessings!

Battling Depression -- via a Young Don Quixote

As a child I was always intrigued by a section of gnarled tree trunk
that was carved into the head of Don Quixote.
 It never occurred to me to wonder who Don Quixote was; 

after all, he was just some guy dad liked.

Dad also had a small wooden piece, only a few inches tall, a 

skinny old guy with knobby knees, pointed helmet, and tall spear-thing. 

My brother now has these in a niche in his den.  
A good friend has a silkscreen print of Don Quixote on a horse, 
again a scrawny guy wearing a pointed helmet 

and holding a  lance, all drawn with a striking grungy outline.

I finally wondered, who is this Don Quixote?

Well, he’s a guy who seems to be simply silly or crazy-as-anything.

Maybe that’s because he goes through his days with boundless hope.  

Or maybe it’s because he thinks every 

windmill is a giant enemy that needs to be slain. 

(At this point it occurred to me that the pic of dad at nine, 

grinning big-enough-to-beat-all as he sat on a horse, 

would be perfect to alter: Young Don Quixote!)

Seems to me that jousting with windmill blades is either crazy or delightful.  

I think it’s a delightful metaphor 
for battling depression -- that visible/invisible 

giant-of-an-enemy found in homes far and wide.

What a way to bring a smile to your eyes and a lift of the chin:  to face

the day with an imaginary lance (how about this candy-cane striped one 

I found on flickr?) ready to battle any giant you might encounter.

Enjoy!  Click comments below to share your fav Don Quixote story, 

your battle with those visible/invisible-giants-of-depression-or-you-name-it, 

or anything else on your mind.  (Yes, you can

also still email me -- people love to read comments though

as we grow, think, and learn together.)

Dare ... to Dive In

Prologue

No, I won’t do it, she thought.  

I want to see what will happen.  What will become of them.  

There’s something special in them ... 

It returned.  

Fully formed like Athena sprung from the head of Zeus.  

But it's not beautiful like that Roman Goddess, 

and she's not fully armed and ready to lead in battle.  

Carol begins her chemo on Monday.  

She is fully armed for battle and has even posted 

a rallying cry on her cancer website.

I’ve decided to journey with her and channel that moxy. 

I’ll revisit the scene of my battle and post journal entries from 

that time in my life, just a couple of years ago.  

So ... Why would that take moxy, guts, nerve? 

Because cancer wasn’t the biggest battle.  

For that I received the accompanying Medal of Honor.  

For that I constantly receive a warm congratulatory smile 

accompanied by the concerned follow-up, how are you now? 

My biggest battle was with the Dirty D.  Depression.  

For that one most often receives a kind but confused smile 

accompanied by a veiling over the eyes and a murmered 

something-or-other followed by a change of topic.  

Unless ... one has faced the Dirty D.  

But even then ... shhh quietly echoes in our heads 

... shhh -- someone might hear! 

The discomfort and reticence to talk about Depression

are shadowy residuals of a shame 

 that is still present in our culture.  

!!!Thank God cancer is no longer a topic of shame and silence!!!  

Someday I hope the same to be true for depression.

Today I begin my battle against any lingering shame of depression.   

It will take place on three fronts:  

   The Cancer-Radiation Arena with posts from my cancer journals 

   The Anxiety-Depression Arena with past and present reflections

   Continued posts on the Spiritual Arena with creative whimsical images

I hope you’ll join me and post your comments.  

Go ahead!  You can always post anonymously if you prefer.  

And yes, you can still email me privately.

Ohhhhhh CrapCrapCRAP!!!  Lost EvERY WoRD of this POst!!!  

Fine!  I’ll re-write and re-post!!!   Hah.  First battle.  Won it. 

Here goes the post and the image I just created.

Autumn Impressions: What is a Soul Journal, Anyway?

 "Listen! the wind is rising,

and the air is wild with leaves.

We have had our summer evenings,

now for October eves!" ~Humbert Wolfe~

This great quote (thanks Jamie!) reminded me of
journal pages from a couple years ago.
Looking at the pages this morning I can see
echoes of my soul at the time.

I thought that describing the process of making those pages

might be a good way to give you a glimpse into a Soul Journal.

It started one afternoon while I was reading

a Smithsonian Magazine that my husband was finished with.

(Being last to read, I can play with the wonderful images!)

I remember noticing the dark colors in

Beautiful Rain, a painting by Renoir.

Carefully tearing out the picture I thought about

other paintings by Renoir with their bright colors,

children playing, and sunny gardens. Those were the

type of Impressionist paintings that usually appeal to me.

It really surprised me to be moved by these dark autumnal colors.

I pulled out a stash of paints, ink-pads and stamps,

and "stuff" torn from envelopes, magazines,
restaurant napkins, and the like.

(Some of my favorite things to use in my Soul Journal 

pages are bits and pieces of life around me.)

Randomly opening the book I was altering, I took

colored ink-pads and watercolors and began to rub, paint, and
daub on colors that reminded me of fall sunsets.

To create a casual messy softness I rip around images and

then rub a combination of neutral inks over the white edges.

I also crumpled up the red flowers

and brushed sepia over the wrinkles to add depth and interest.

I continued to play around, adding a dried stalk from

my sister's garden and postage stamps that brightened the pages.

Pausing to take a look, they all seemed to want a cozy interior space.

so, looking out the window at the fall leaves in olive green,

dark ochre yellow, and sepia brown, I smudged and layered

those colors until they created warm and safe edges.

(Can you hear echoes of my soul at that time?)

Dark purple and brown inks were used to stamp the

randomly selected clocks, fern, and butterflies

on top of the autumn-sunset colors.

(Again, can you see intuitive symbolism in the selected images?)

Looking back, the way those dark beautiful colors

in the magazine spoke to me now makes some sense.

Recovering from cancer treatments

and working through accompanying depression

it had become increasingly difficult to talk about my feelings.

I had searched around me and scrounged through the

cancer magazines scattered in oncology waiting rooms

but could find no evidence of others struggling with

such depression after treatments.

Everywhere I looked other cancer survivors were

full of sunshine, optimism, and hope.

They were ready to jump back into life,

eager to re-embrace every single day.

And so I had grown deeply ashamed of my depression

and tried to hide it even more than usual.

(I know, while many commented on how good I was doing,

I didn't hide much of anything from those of you

familiar with depression.)

As I flipped through the magazine that day

something about those dark colors resonated with my soul.

And while I noticed how powerful they were to me, I

didn't really try to understand. Instead, I simply

allowed them to be a springboard for

creative play and nonverbal expression.

Soul Journals can be helpful

when words are inadequate, unavailable.

And ... isn't it delightfully ironic how often we

return to words to explain those nonverbal expressions?

Click below or email me and let me know how you Soul-Journal or

how you'd like to begin.  Remember, I'm always glad to

answer questions if you're unsure how to begin.
I love all your comments and emails for those who prefer!

Nicknames

Seeing old friends is great.

You know what else is great?
To be able to respond
when asked "How are you?" with
"I'm cancer free -- and
I'm depression free."

I call them
the "Big C"

and the "Dirty D"

There's power in a name.
Liberating power as well as oppressive power.
There's calm centering power,
and there's also the
whimsical redeeming power of nicknames.

What are some of your favorite nicknames
for struggles or Pains-in-the-Neck?
Favorite practical jokes?
Dreaded foods, days, or tasks?
Alter-egos or an Inner Child?