Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Bread for the Stardust Pilgrims
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Immigration and Pilgrimage
The immigration issue is really hard. I think it is another iceberg-- where all you see is the tip-- while the big pieces are that the employers can use the cheap labor, and get away with not providing the "living wages" which would cover the healthcare, housing, social services, infrastructure needs of the towns, and the education needs of the families who take these low-paying jobs. Meanwhile there are big money sponsors eager to to help conservative politicians like Scott Walker, who want to "remove social services" from the agenda of the government. To me this is egregious behavior. It is also narrow-minded and short-term thinking. We have to hope that there are more people who see "the big picture", and can mentallly construct the rest of the iceberg from the tip they can see- so we don't sink the country on it! Once a Mexican woman asked me to write a letter to the immigration authorities for her, begging for medical amnesty. This was because she was afraid that if she went home to deliver her baby, she would likely die. There is no hospital, no running water, no doctor, no midwife, no electricity, no help in the rural farm she came from. She begged to have her baby here, where we have these services.
I was just reading that Partners In Health has been figuring out how to give cesarean deliveries in rural places where OB help is needed, and how much it would cost-- something like $300. I keep hoping that their model, and also help from the World Bankers through the new job of Jim Young Kim, will make it possible. When I was young, cervical cancer was the biggest killer of women. We are now at the edge of wiping out HPV-related cervical cancer with a vaccine. May it also be true that in my lifetime, we can bring OB care and CSections to the vast majority of the world's women who need a safe passage to motherhood. May we not have so many orphans. May we not have the need for so many vesico-vaginal fistulae, as women get timely surgical deliveries. May I live to see it!
I hope that we as Americans can begin to turn the tide toward recognition that social services and health care and education are actually part of "providing for the general welfare"-- as stated in the constitution. I believe the common good, and the consensus needed, will help propel us into the better government, with more transparency and more flexibility to meet the needs of the citizenry, to really make us a nation looking forward for the 21st century.
I have been reading the Tikkun magazine, and thinking of the idea of Tikkun Olam--to repair the world. I also have been thinking about the experience of walking the Camino, of being a pilgrim, needing support and help as we went along. How easy it was to get tired and hungry and frightened that our needs might not be met! Needing shelter and food, and "dying" to lie down with our feet up, were the topmost thoughts of the day. I was listening to David Steindl-Rast and David Whyte, at the Gratefulness.org colloquium, online. David's new poems about the Camino are just fabulous. He says what I wanted to say. I wanted to talk about the sense of the sacred, of the importance of always feeling like we were walking on holy ground. When they talked about shedding the old skin, the dead skin, like shoe leather, in the way Moses was told to shed his shoes before the burning bush, Fr. David Steindl-Rast talked about how "to get our living skin onto the living earth" is what is meant-- because we KNOW in our flesh that we are always on holy ground. Also, he pointed out that it was not so miraculous that the bush was burning, but that it was burning without being consumed. The joy in life, the pleasure and passion and engagement, are when we are burning but not being burnt out or used up. Gratefulness helps us to recognize the vitality and passion in ourselves. We bring new life, new energy to our daily world if we can feel that we are on holy ground, and that we are pilgrims, moving toward the sacred with gratitude, and with wonder and curiosity. I can hardly say enough how grateful I am to have had the month to walk the Pilgrimage path. I am still joyful, at the gift it was!
I was just reading that Partners In Health has been figuring out how to give cesarean deliveries in rural places where OB help is needed, and how much it would cost-- something like $300. I keep hoping that their model, and also help from the World Bankers through the new job of Jim Young Kim, will make it possible. When I was young, cervical cancer was the biggest killer of women. We are now at the edge of wiping out HPV-related cervical cancer with a vaccine. May it also be true that in my lifetime, we can bring OB care and CSections to the vast majority of the world's women who need a safe passage to motherhood. May we not have so many orphans. May we not have the need for so many vesico-vaginal fistulae, as women get timely surgical deliveries. May I live to see it!
I hope that we as Americans can begin to turn the tide toward recognition that social services and health care and education are actually part of "providing for the general welfare"-- as stated in the constitution. I believe the common good, and the consensus needed, will help propel us into the better government, with more transparency and more flexibility to meet the needs of the citizenry, to really make us a nation looking forward for the 21st century.
I have been reading the Tikkun magazine, and thinking of the idea of Tikkun Olam--to repair the world. I also have been thinking about the experience of walking the Camino, of being a pilgrim, needing support and help as we went along. How easy it was to get tired and hungry and frightened that our needs might not be met! Needing shelter and food, and "dying" to lie down with our feet up, were the topmost thoughts of the day. I was listening to David Steindl-Rast and David Whyte, at the Gratefulness.org colloquium, online. David's new poems about the Camino are just fabulous. He says what I wanted to say. I wanted to talk about the sense of the sacred, of the importance of always feeling like we were walking on holy ground. When they talked about shedding the old skin, the dead skin, like shoe leather, in the way Moses was told to shed his shoes before the burning bush, Fr. David Steindl-Rast talked about how "to get our living skin onto the living earth" is what is meant-- because we KNOW in our flesh that we are always on holy ground. Also, he pointed out that it was not so miraculous that the bush was burning, but that it was burning without being consumed. The joy in life, the pleasure and passion and engagement, are when we are burning but not being burnt out or used up. Gratefulness helps us to recognize the vitality and passion in ourselves. We bring new life, new energy to our daily world if we can feel that we are on holy ground, and that we are pilgrims, moving toward the sacred with gratitude, and with wonder and curiosity. I can hardly say enough how grateful I am to have had the month to walk the Pilgrimage path. I am still joyful, at the gift it was!
Saturday, June 30, 2012
The Spiritual Gift of the Camino
A week ago, a patient of mine almost died of an amniotic fluid embolism, and I am so grateful that she lived. This is a complication at the end of pregnancy that we cannot predict, and the kind of care that is needed is supportive-- but if the injury is massive enough, it will kill the patient, no matter what we do. So I was again confronted with the hardest thing in my life as a doctor-- my helplessness to control outcomes. In our case, we had great teamwork, and it was a gift, to have such excellent colleagues helping me, and helping her. This was a reflection on the greatest of the many gifts the Camino gave me.
I feel the helplessness of being a person holding the hand of a person at the edge of death; the marveling, that we cannot know if we will be enough; and that we do what we can, and we must do it as well as we can, and only stop to feel the self-doubt later, after we have done all we can. I was thinking a lot, on my walk, about the Gospel story where they ask Jesus why a man was born blind. "Was it his sin, or the sin of his parents?" they ask. He answered them "Neither. It was so that the glory of God could be revealed through him."
I keep thinking of that story, as the answer to a lot of what happens in medicine. At the edge where we work, we can only try, wittingly or un-wittingly, to be instruments for the glory of God to be revealed. Which is another way of saying that miracles do occur. When someone says that they don't believe in miracles, I think of Einstein, who said "either everything is a miracle, or nothing is." But we cannot command them. This is a hard thing for some skeptical people to entertain. But with or without our awareness, many amazing and wondrous things happen. What I think happened to me as time went by, in practicing medicine, was that fear of bad outcomes became pretty overwhelming, making me become over-controlling. I knew I needed to let go and recognize that it is beyond me,— up to God, or what Rachel would call Mystery, or Life itself. But to let go of the sense of control and over-responsiblility for the outcomes was impossible.
I really felt the difference, after this month of walking the Camino. I took two rocks with me, one for the broken-hearted people I know, and one for the seriously ill people I know. And I held them in my hands for many hours of the day, as I walked along– trying to get ready to leave them, loaded with prayers, at the foot of the iron cross, ('cruz de ferro"), which is on a mountain about two-thirds through the pilgrimage. I also had been carrying a very special rock from a physician friend with a heartache which has been immensely difficult to overcome. These three rocks were my meditation tools, as I walked along. I started seeing that most of the things I was praying about were things which only God could fix. I slowly felt myself letting my hands hold them less tightly, and my prayers around them becoming more "into Thy hands…" I started retracting myself more into the small Hobbit-like woman walking along this ancient path. Nobody asked for my advice or help. I was carrying my pack, and my legs were aching. And I was truly grateful for good weather, good food, and the simple but great gift of a place to lie down, and a shower. I think for anyone who has gotten to a place of almost paralysis with the need to control, it is worth considering doing this kind of pilgrimage. Perhaps even a shorter time would do– but the month was such a great gift, to be able to reach for a different rhythm, and give time for it to take hold. One of my friends sent me an article about a new book written by a woman physician about the Laguna Honda Hospital in San Francisco, in the 70s and 80s, and how it was such a gift for patients to have adequate time to heal– sometimes months, for slow recovery. I thought about that gift of slow time to heal. I feel so blessed, that I got that whole month, to be able to uncurl from the false sense of control. It gave me a new ballast, and a new center of gravity. And the vivid remembrance of leaving those stones at the foot of the cross.
I feel the helplessness of being a person holding the hand of a person at the edge of death; the marveling, that we cannot know if we will be enough; and that we do what we can, and we must do it as well as we can, and only stop to feel the self-doubt later, after we have done all we can. I was thinking a lot, on my walk, about the Gospel story where they ask Jesus why a man was born blind. "Was it his sin, or the sin of his parents?" they ask. He answered them "Neither. It was so that the glory of God could be revealed through him."
I keep thinking of that story, as the answer to a lot of what happens in medicine. At the edge where we work, we can only try, wittingly or un-wittingly, to be instruments for the glory of God to be revealed. Which is another way of saying that miracles do occur. When someone says that they don't believe in miracles, I think of Einstein, who said "either everything is a miracle, or nothing is." But we cannot command them. This is a hard thing for some skeptical people to entertain. But with or without our awareness, many amazing and wondrous things happen. What I think happened to me as time went by, in practicing medicine, was that fear of bad outcomes became pretty overwhelming, making me become over-controlling. I knew I needed to let go and recognize that it is beyond me,— up to God, or what Rachel would call Mystery, or Life itself. But to let go of the sense of control and over-responsiblility for the outcomes was impossible.
I really felt the difference, after this month of walking the Camino. I took two rocks with me, one for the broken-hearted people I know, and one for the seriously ill people I know. And I held them in my hands for many hours of the day, as I walked along– trying to get ready to leave them, loaded with prayers, at the foot of the iron cross, ('cruz de ferro"), which is on a mountain about two-thirds through the pilgrimage. I also had been carrying a very special rock from a physician friend with a heartache which has been immensely difficult to overcome. These three rocks were my meditation tools, as I walked along. I started seeing that most of the things I was praying about were things which only God could fix. I slowly felt myself letting my hands hold them less tightly, and my prayers around them becoming more "into Thy hands…" I started retracting myself more into the small Hobbit-like woman walking along this ancient path. Nobody asked for my advice or help. I was carrying my pack, and my legs were aching. And I was truly grateful for good weather, good food, and the simple but great gift of a place to lie down, and a shower. I think for anyone who has gotten to a place of almost paralysis with the need to control, it is worth considering doing this kind of pilgrimage. Perhaps even a shorter time would do– but the month was such a great gift, to be able to reach for a different rhythm, and give time for it to take hold. One of my friends sent me an article about a new book written by a woman physician about the Laguna Honda Hospital in San Francisco, in the 70s and 80s, and how it was such a gift for patients to have adequate time to heal– sometimes months, for slow recovery. I thought about that gift of slow time to heal. I feel so blessed, that I got that whole month, to be able to uncurl from the false sense of control. It gave me a new ballast, and a new center of gravity. And the vivid remembrance of leaving those stones at the foot of the cross.
poem: The Spanish Shawls
THE SPANISH SHAWLS
In the brightly-lit Chinese emporium,
Just up from the the beach, in Spain,
I found a rack of little girls' Spanish shawls,
All in bright colors, made in China.
And I remembered 50 years ago, so vividly!
Nana opening her suitcase, her eyes big and round;
And all of us so curious
To see what she had brought us!
Out came these little girls' Spanish shawls--
Each in stained glass colors--
Melon, jonquil, tangerine, violet, royal blue, and emerald green;
And I put one over my shoulders and twirled around in it--
Ahh, the sunshine in my memory made it gorgeous and so fine!
And here, now; here they were, again, 50 years later, where I was
Following a very faint trail of remembrance; in a store
With flamenco polka-dot dresses for little girls to wear for dress-up,
In wash-and wear spandex cloth, and fans, and glittery hair ornaments.
The cheerful Chinese imitations--
And now I am the one with the greying hair, and the wrinkly face.
But
the fabric wasn't silk, just polyester,
the tassels were cheap,
the embroidery was machine-done, not hand-made,
the flowers weren't subtle enough in design,
They did not look quite like the ones I remember, and with Nana's face,
Giggling and cooing over them!
The memories dissolved in the everyday light;
They were heavy on my arm, all 6 of them--
And I thought about having to carry them home, stuffed
In my backpack.
And I thought, a little sadly, we are all over 50,
we can't really wear them;
my sisters will twirl once,
but their eyes will see the difference,
notice that they aren't well-made,
they are just a cheap imitation of the memory
of the ones we loved;
They will go into a bottom drawer, or a costume box,
They aren't really "just the thing";
It would be dumb to buy them.
I am remembering, and the memory itself
Will have to be enough.
I send you the gift of the shawls at that moment,
When Nana opened her suitcase,
And it could have contained the Eiffel Tower,
Or a Florentine madonna,
A black Spanish bull,
Or the gates of paradise.
mn 2012
Friday, June 22, 2012
Flying through Amsterdam
When I was looking for a ticket, I ended up getting a flight with KLM. It went through Amsterdam, then the St. Exupery airport in Lyons France, then to Biarritz, which is the closest airport to the starting point for many, at St. Jean Pied a Port, in the southwest corner of France. I was flying with the biggest full moon of the year, on the Cinco de Mayo (5th of May); which is an auspicious day to turn toward Spain from one of the former colonial places. In Amsterdam, I went through customs, and then heard an overhead speaker announcing there would be a Catholic mass in the airport chapel starting in about 15 minutes. I went back with my backpack through the international gate, and up to the airport lounge; where, in a lovely translucent space, a chapel exists. The priest had spent some time in Africa, and was very serious and kind, in his celebration of the mass. It was an acutely tuned event to the fact that we were all wayfarers, if not pilgrims; and that it was spiritually nourishing and grounding for us as Catholics, to be found here in this tiny community of believers. There were about 10 of us, and after mass, the Dutch hostess and greeter invited us for cookies and coffee. We had a marvelous talk. One of the attendees was a young man who works as an engineer in Italy, and he had participated in the youth group with Pope John Paul II in Europe and Colorado. I talked a bit about my experience in the Peace Corps, in Paraguay. They were all delighted to hear I was on my way to walk the Camino, and sent their prayers and blessings with me. The Gospel was the one about "I am the vine, you are the branches. If you remain in me, you will bear good fruit." I was absolutely thunderstruck that there was a mass in the airport in Amsterdam, and that I got to be there, at just the right time to enjoy it!
I also was surprised to be going through Lyons, and that the airport was named for the author of "The little Prince". I was thinking it had been a long time since I read it, and I still remember in French, the line "tu deviens reponsable de ta rose"--- you are responsible for your rose--- which is why you love her, even though she is difficult. I also remember reading "Night flight"-- several decades ago. The place was muggy and reminded me of Omaha, but there was a lovely brick chapel steeple on the horizon beyond the airport, and interesting light in the clouds. I wondered if St. Exupery would be glad his name is on that airport.
Before leaving San Francisco, I was speaking with a young woman who was typing on a computer laptop-- and she asked me tentatively if she could ask a medical question. Her question had to do with how much longer she should work before getting pregnant. I gently told her that I think it is the wrong question. I cautioned her that she needn't believe me, because I am a very old-fashioned person about this issue. I really think we need to be able to be people who are "both/and" rather than "either/or", and that we need to be able to express our love, and build families, when it is right to do so; not just force these life-issues into our work schedule. If we are ready for children, it IS the right time, and the work will have to be adjusted accordingly. We all want to be well-balanced, and good at everything. In my opinion, the rate-limiting-step is finding the right partner, who will make a wonderful father for our children. After that, it IS the right time to build a family. Some payoffs happen, when we have children young. When we have to wait, it is hard, especially if having a family is really the greatest hope and likeliest of all our desires to help us be happy. Most women deeply want to be mothers and wives. This needs to be honored, rather than shunted aside as a less-than-worthy goal, even if one is a great businesswoman. The whole rest of the trip, I worried that I had not given her good advice, the kind of advice that is considered prudent in our time for professional women. I was so glad, listening to the Gospel of the vine and the branches, that maybe I did say the right thing. In the lives of some of my patients, I am the only one arguing on behalf of their fertility, their potential maternity. I put that, too, into God's hands.
I also was surprised to be going through Lyons, and that the airport was named for the author of "The little Prince". I was thinking it had been a long time since I read it, and I still remember in French, the line "tu deviens reponsable de ta rose"--- you are responsible for your rose--- which is why you love her, even though she is difficult. I also remember reading "Night flight"-- several decades ago. The place was muggy and reminded me of Omaha, but there was a lovely brick chapel steeple on the horizon beyond the airport, and interesting light in the clouds. I wondered if St. Exupery would be glad his name is on that airport.
Before leaving San Francisco, I was speaking with a young woman who was typing on a computer laptop-- and she asked me tentatively if she could ask a medical question. Her question had to do with how much longer she should work before getting pregnant. I gently told her that I think it is the wrong question. I cautioned her that she needn't believe me, because I am a very old-fashioned person about this issue. I really think we need to be able to be people who are "both/and" rather than "either/or", and that we need to be able to express our love, and build families, when it is right to do so; not just force these life-issues into our work schedule. If we are ready for children, it IS the right time, and the work will have to be adjusted accordingly. We all want to be well-balanced, and good at everything. In my opinion, the rate-limiting-step is finding the right partner, who will make a wonderful father for our children. After that, it IS the right time to build a family. Some payoffs happen, when we have children young. When we have to wait, it is hard, especially if having a family is really the greatest hope and likeliest of all our desires to help us be happy. Most women deeply want to be mothers and wives. This needs to be honored, rather than shunted aside as a less-than-worthy goal, even if one is a great businesswoman. The whole rest of the trip, I worried that I had not given her good advice, the kind of advice that is considered prudent in our time for professional women. I was so glad, listening to the Gospel of the vine and the branches, that maybe I did say the right thing. In the lives of some of my patients, I am the only one arguing on behalf of their fertility, their potential maternity. I put that, too, into God's hands.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
My blog for the Camino
My blog for The Camino de Santiago de Compostela started on May 5, and I came home on June 5. So, to go in order, you need to go to May, and start at the beginning. I will keep trying to upgrade the postings to make it more coherent, with reflections from the days when I wrote in the journal, but didn't post anything, and from thoughts after returning.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
"Bread for the Stardust Pilgrims"
This is the title poem in my third book of poems. I have been thinking about the pilgrimage to Santiago for about 10 years, and this was published in 2009. I got to read it in front of the Burgos cathedral, to Andy, my son, who was recording it, in May 2012. It felt miraculous, and powerful to be using the words I had written to describe the pilgrimage we were actually doing! We were not barefoot-- it was hard even with shoes, in places. But the Museum of Human Evolution in Burgos resonated completely with my poem, with my sense of the million years of holiness evolving us. I have loved the work of Teilhard de Chardin since I first read it, and I was so lucky to be in the Seminar on Teilhard taught by Fr. Fagothey at Santa Clara, in the joy-filled autumn of his life, in the spring semester of my sophomore year. Because of Teilhard, I was a philosophy major in college. We had just walked a path which has been walked by humans for 10,000 years, near the archeological dig at Atapuerca. I definitely felt the miraculous feeling that God holds us in hands which continue to create! I am so grateful that my son is also excited and engaged in this sense of mystery, miracles, and the desire for coherence. Walking this path with him has been one of the greatest experiences of my life.
BREAD FOR THE STARDUST PILGRIMS
BREAD FOR THE STARDUST PILGRIMS
In the stillness of night
Holding the dandelion seeds
Of our own resurrection,
We are the stardust pilgrims:
Oxygen, nitrogen,
Of our own resurrection,
We are the stardust pilgrims:
Oxygen, nitrogen,
Carbon and hydrogen,
Kissed by sunlight,Remixed and reborn.
Kissed by sunlight,Remixed and reborn.
Flesh blossoming from the muddy earth,
Barefoot on the journey,
Bones (sometimes weary) singing the truth:
We are stardust,
Barefoot on the journey,
Bones (sometimes weary) singing the truth:
We are stardust,
We are pilgrims;
Calcium and amino acids,
Air and water.
This bread is ours,
Wheat from the fields,
Golden as grain in summer.
This wine, transforming us
As we walk along,
On the way to the wedding feast;
Hoping for miracles,
Laughing for joy.
Calcium and amino acids,
Air and water.
This bread is ours,
Wheat from the fields,
Golden as grain in summer.
This wine, transforming us
As we walk along,
On the way to the wedding feast;
Hoping for miracles,
Laughing for joy.
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