HOW SHE WAS BLESSED

Posted on March 30, 2011 by Judy

My newest song started with lyrics scrawled on paper as I sang the melody. As a songwriter, it’s helpful to eliminate “excess words,” so I’ve scratched some out.

GOOD LIST:

This morning a journalist from Brazil interviewed me. He was writing an article about my illustrations for a newspaper there. I casually asked his readership, and he said about one million people. I answered a lot of questions about by art career, but also mentioned my writing and music. I told him, “I’m not making money right now, and I love sharing. I want people to know that there can be so much meaning from life when a career ends. It caused me to reevaluate my life and discover so much joy with my newfound passions!

I composed an “almost,” new song last week that will be the basis for my book. The song is named “Music From Her Heart.”

I made some great progress on my book because I was productive with my writing energy.

My mother had more physical therapy, but this time without as much terror. She took a few steps. She has not been complaining of physical pain as much, lately.

My mother went out to lunch with my brothers, father, and her caregiver last week and the week before. Transporting her wheelchair worked out and she did okay, despite her fatigue.

I am performing this Sunday at a friend’s synagogue, and I will be paid! The best part is that I can play and talk freely about my music, which is something I love to do.

BAD LIST:

My mother’s dementia was noticeably worse last week.

I accidentally deleted my one and only external hard-drive that held all of my high-resolution art files while trying to copy it.

I yelled out when I caught our little Chihuahua, Killer, peeing on the wall. I smirked as my husband lectured the dog with; “I’m not letting you in my bedroom tonight to cuddle with me! That is your punishment for not using your pee pad!”

I have had difficulty keeping up with everything.


“I need a History Eraser for my life”

I remember when I first began my blog a little over a year ago. I wrote almost every day and even had headings for the time of day I wrote about! There was so much inside of me that I wanted to share; I was truly exploding. I certainly wrote several days a week.

Lately, it has been hard for me to write any updates.

It’s probably because I have been trying very hard to consolidate all of my writing energy into crafting my book.

On top of that, because I’m still passionate about my music, I continue to compose and perform my songs.

I decided to come up with a metaphor about writing my book.

My blog is like a vast refrigerator, full of wonderful food. However, I have become the “cook” now, and there is a lot of energy involved in sorting through that refrigerator to find out which items to cook and what recipes to use.

I love writing new things, but I hesitate if I am adding “junk food” to my refrigerator. I allow myself to write updates surrounding my mother, but I’ve added perimeters. My writing must now be “useful” for my book or especially meaningful. “Junk food” distracts me from my more important “serious cooking.”

When I feel the need for distraction, it has been far easier for me to work on my art blog. There has been a lot of interest in my illustration career, and I enjoy sharing about it. I can work on it without any emotional connection, and sometimes that’s just what I need to do.

But today, I am going to allow myself the therapy of writing.

I want to write about my wish for a “history eraser.”

It is absolutely fitting for me to mention this wonderful tool that exists as something very useful when I work on my computer with Photoshop.

I’ve often wished there was a way to reverse a moment in time the same way!

This past week I had a “computer moment” where I wished I had done things differently.

I know I can’t go backward, so as I move forward I try to learn from mistakes. No matter what happens in my life, I am always searching for lessons and meaning.

First and foremost, yesterday I accidentally deleted an external, hard-drive that contained all of my high-resolution art files and much of my music. Many files were scans of artwork that I spent well over a year creating. However, I hardly ever access those files much anymore.

I had some copies of those files in other places – but not of everything. I lost many things I know I will miss. What was the lesson for me about this? Obviously, so many things in my life were not within my control. However, this was something, which could have been prevented – hence, I wish I could use a history eraser to erase the moment when I clicked on the wrong drive to reformat!

One thing that stands out for me is how powerful the subconscious is. I knew how important my computer drive was. I was actually trying to copy it when I accidentally erased it.

My greatest fear happened – as if I was almost anticipating it!

I’ve decided to look at this as something that allows me to be very human – because I am certainly not alone in doing this. Backup recovery services exist because a lot of people come to them just like me!

Now I have to decide how much money I am willing to pay for “recovery,” versus accepting those files are gone.

I’ve also decided to focus on all the items I still have that were not erased. There is a lot of relief around that for me.

Also, because I have experienced loss and have grieved; I am always reminded about what is truly important in life.

A picture from when I was 10.

A picture from when I was 10.

Before I discovered music, I had some strange hobbies when I was seven.

Before I discovered music, I had some strange hobbies when I was seven.

“An almost forgotten melody”

I arrived at my tennis game yesterday morning in a state of agitation and shock over deleting my important files.

Before I even had said hello, I was admonished for my behavior the prior week. I was told, “You are here to play tennis! Please – no composing songs while you are playing. We want you here!”

I smiled with the reminder of how I heard my latest song’s lyrics in my head while playing tennis last week. I worked hard not to forget the wonderful lines that were going through my mind as I was hitting a tennis ball.

It translated to a less than optimal tennis game. I promised my friends I would focus and not think about my computer problems. I played better than I expected.

For me, the composition of a new song was another example of the power of my subconscious mind. Last week, the discovery of a new song surprised me and was totally unexpected.

It also reminded me that my wedding song was not the last song I wrote, and that was a revelation. I wrote that melody when I was alone illustrating after I was married. An old, song sheet with an almost forgotten melody evolved into a song that would carry the title of my book.

It would be a song about my transformation and it expressed all my joy and feelings surrounding it!

I will be writing more about my new song soon. I saw Peaches last Friday and I will share some clips here. I gave Peaches a copy of her vocal inserted into my “improved” arrangement of “Saying Goodbye.”

I recently invested in a new microphone and plan to do a lot more acoustic and home recordings.

PEACHES LESSON CLIP #1 – 3/25/11

PEACHES LESSON CLIP #2 – 3/25/11

When I last visited my mom, it made her so happy when i called both my brothers so she could speak with them on the phone.

“The difference she has made in my life”

Miriam told me my mother was sleeping when I called. We talked for a while and it was nice. Miriam shared with me that when she wasn’t there on her days off, she was worried about my mom.

She mentioned how she knew what my mom was feeling just by the expressions on her face. I understood well what she meant. Then Miriam said, “I’ve never met anyone like your mother with such a big heart. I am so in awe of her.”

My mom might have been quite different now due to her dementia, but I was so grateful that she didn’t have difficulty expressing love.

I felt tears choke my voice when I told Miriam how I was so devoted to my mother when she was sick, but now I’ve been busy living and enjoying my life.

It was due to the fact that I knew she was well cared for by Miriam.

It became a good time for me to thank her for the difference she has made in my life – and my mother’s.

There was also no doubt how important Miriam was to my father. She told me how she was so impressed by his devotion to my mother. Then, she shared with me his level or irritably and fatigue. She gave me the example of how he would deliver an adjusted, hearing aid to my mother’s room, but be “too tired” to say hello to her in the dining room.

My mother would be very upset knowing he came by without any acknowledgement; she couldn’t accept that he didn’t want to make the time to at least say hello to her.

Miriam said to me coyly, “I pushed your mother’s wheelchair to where Mr. Lee was and I told him to say hello – even though he wasn’t happy about it!”

We both agreed that my father would be lost without having my mother to worry about, despite his gruff demeanor.

Then with complete honesty, Miriam confessed, “Judy, I don’t know how I will manage when I don’t have your mom to care for. It will be so hard for me when she’s gone.”

I understood.

This picture on my mom’s birthday three years ago, shows my father expressing his feelings about “socializing.” He prefers to sleep.

“How I am blessed”

My writing had felt disjointed. In the beginning of my post, I already had compared it to “junk food,” but allowed myself the therapy to express my feelings surrounding my complicated life.

I was having a lot of difficult deciding on what to name my post. What could pull everything together? Suddenly, I found my insight. I decided to name my post “How She Was Blessed,” which was a line from my new song.

To have a caregiver like Miriam for my mother reminded me of that.

But then, the revelation came to me after I corresponded last night with my dear friend, Magda, who suffers terribly from the progression of MS.

On March 28, 2011, Magda wrote:

I DON’T KNOW IF YOU GOT MY LAST MESSAGE..UNFORTUNATELY I AM NOT DOING WELL LATELY…..THE MS IS PROGRESSING, HARDLY STAND-UP, BACK PAINS, BURNINGS, ONLY 4 HRS. SLEEP…VITAL SIGNS AND ALL THE TESTS CAME OUT OK…I DON’T KNOW WHAT CAN I DO …WAITING, PRAYING AND HOPING FOR BETTER..THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR CONCERN AND LOVE ……..I LOVE YOU TOO AND WAITING FOR YOUR BOOK AND LOVELY SONGS……..LOVE, MAGDA

Oh Magda – I am so sorry to hear that you are not doing well. I can only imagine you are struggling to do basic things. Please hang in there. I got your last message, and I am sorry I didn’t respond. I love you and am very concerned about you.

I am going to mail you out a CD very soon. The book will take a while, but I am so excited when I can share it with you. Hang in there my dear friend. I will pray for you.

Love, Judy

MY DEAR JUDY, I READ YOUR MESSAGE ABOUT LOSING YOUR COMPUTER FILES. EVERYTHING IS RECOVERABLE …YOUR HEALTH IS THE MOST IMPORTANT, WITHOUT THIS NOTHING MATTERS ANYMORE!   LOVE, MAGDA

That is so true, Magda! No one could say that with more meaning than you. I accept that this is truly recoverable and I am not going to waste my energy feeling bad about it anymore. I am healthy, thank god!

I wish I could make you healthy again or do something that could take away your pain. I wish, I wish!!!!

Love, Judy

BRAVO JUDY, YOU ARE SO SMART, YOU KNOW WHAT A REAL LOSS IS. THANK YOU FOR YOUR WISH, WISH…

I LOVE YOU, MAGDA

You’re welcome, Magda. It is true. Once you experience real loss, it helps to make coping with superficial things easier.

Love, Judy

When I began writing my song, it was in “first person,” with “I” statements. I changed it to “her.” These lyrics scrawled are not the final ones.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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THERE’S SO MUCH FEAR

Posted on March 22, 2011 by Judy

Memories are truly one of the greatest gifts in my life. I didn’t always feel that way, since I held onto many traumatic and sad memories.

As a memory in my life replays, it can be so clear for me sometimes. The smells, lighting, sounds; all of it is there as I am transported back to a certain moment in time.

Of course, not every moment of an ordinary day becomes a memory. Only extraordinary moments are “captured,” and I am not always aware that they are special while they are happening.

Recently, I had a moment while I was visiting my mother where I definitely felt I had a memory I would access later in my life.

It was on a rainy morning over this past weekend. I decided to stop by my mother’s nursing facility before going to an appointment with my hypnotherapist, Connie. As I walked into my mother’s room, I felt like a star walking onto a stage garnering tremendous applause. My mother’s face lit up like the sun and her caregiver, Miriam, clapped with joy to see me.

It was hard for me to know how much my mother was aware of. Certainly, she was often frustrated with her inability to find words. As usual, I simply smiled and told my mom how wonderful I was doing and how much I loved her. She babbled nonsensical statements, so I simply sidestepped and ignored her confusion.

My mother had attempted physical therapy last week. Because I am very aware of attitudes and outcomes, I found it very interesting to hear Miriam describe how it went to me.

My mother walked several steps, but then she collapsed in terror. She was not in pain, but she was panicked and fearful. Miriam said, “The physical therapist kept emphasizing to your mother that it might hurt – so she was very afraid.”

It turns out that my mother’s pain in her life is not her hip, her shoulder, or her back anymore. It is terror over her intense fear of the unknown.

I had brought with me some old, picture albums. It was suggested to me that with dementia it might be helpful for my mother to spend time looking at old pictures and explaining them to her caregiver.

Miriam shuffled through some of the albums I had brought while I was gently chatting with my mother. As Miriam looked at some of the pictures, she commented softly, “Look at your mother and how beautiful she looks! When was this picture taken?”

I turned to Miriam and said, “That one was four years ago.” I flipped through and pointed to one that was taken the day before my mother broke her shoulder and ended up on a respirator for two months. I glanced at the picture. My mother was dressed so nicely and her eyes were sharp. I said, “This picture is from only a little over a year ago.”

Miriam let out an almost inaudible gasp.

That gasp spoke endlessly to me. The unspoken words and story that spun from it was:

“Oh my goodness, how she has changed (deteriorated) from her image in that picture!”

My mother looked tired. I noticed how the skin on her arm was so different now. It looked like a paper that had been crunched into a small ball and then unrolled again. Tiny webs of lines crisscrossed her skin so that it looked almost like a piece of crumpled, tissue paper.

Miriam said, “I know I’m not allowed to do this, but sometimes we have to wait fifteen minutes for someone to come and put her in her bed. I am not going to wait – I will just do it now.”

I replied, “Miriam, I found out that as long as I am here you are allowed. So go ahead!”

Miriam gently lifted my mother from her wheelchair onto her bed. My mother would nap in her clothes and later on wake up to go to lunch. After lunch she might nap again. That was her life now. She woke up, ate breakfast, napped, ate lunch, napped, ate dinner, and went to sleep for the night at 6:30 p.m.

The room was dim. I leaned close to my mom and kissed her. “Have a nice nap, mom,” I told her.

Her dull eyes brightened for a moment. She was devouring my face with love. Then she became downcast and said, “I feel so bad for her. You know she got lost!”

As usual, I quickly jumped to redirect my mom from any bad feelings. So I said, “Mom, there’s no reason to feel bad for anyone else. You’re doing well and that’s what is important!”

As the words left my mouth, I realized how hollow and insincere they sounded. I decided to ask her, “Mom, whom do you feel bad for – who was lost?”

My mom said, “You know, you lost her – your friend. The one you used to go shopping with and whom you were so close to.”

My eyes filled with tears. My mom knew. She was speaking about herself.

Links to more about my song:

MEMORY OF LOVE-PART 1

MEMORY OF LOVE-PART 2

–

THE MEMORY OF LOVE

Original Song by Judy Unger, Copyright 2010


How can I tell you, I’m sad you’re leaving me?

I miss the way you used to be

I lost you somewhere

I’m lonely and I can’t share


I cannot tell you, so instead I just pretend

it’s easier, than to face the end

I’ve tried so hard to accept

as you fade away, I’ve slowly wept


I feel, I sense, there’s so much fear

I try to be brave, as you disappear from here


I cannot see you,

you’ve become transparent

I ache and wonder where you went

you can’t hear my cries

with deaf ears and vacant eyes


I pray, I wish, you were aware

but when I feel despair

the memory of love

is there

so even if you’re not aware

the memory of love is always there

“Instead of black and white, a palette of emotion”

The rain steadily pounded upon the guesthouse. I could hear the tapping sounds and splashes in the garden outside.

I told Connie that I was using my hypnotherapy tools and needed a lot of “self-talk” to help me deal with all the stress I had been facing the past week. Connie said it sounded as if I felt a lot of pressure.

As I was talking, I began to realize how frequently I used the statement, “I don’t know.” Here was a list from my memory of many of my statements with “I don’t know:”

“I don’t know if my teenage daughter and I will ever have a close relationship.”

“I don’t know if I’ve been patient enough with my youngest son.”

“I don’t know if my dreams are a distraction from the reality of all the overwhelming bills there are to pay.”

“I don’t know if my husband will continue to support my efforts. I haven’t paid much attention to him, lately.”

“I don’t know if I have a good enough title for my book.”

“I don’t know when I’ll finish the lyrics to my new song.”

One of the hypnotherapy concepts I learned was, “The more I looked for something, the more I’d find it.” With the statement of, “I don’t know,” I was simply leaving myself in a place of never knowing. The unknown was a place for me that seemed fearful.

I needed a replacement statement for, “I don’t know.”

Out came my favorite word. It was the word “wonder.” Replacing the doubt with “wonder” had the implication of “wonderment” and also far less doubt.

I loved wondering instead of doubting.

I had a tendency to also see things in “black and white.” I explained to Connie how that was probably “a habit” and a result of my childhood. My own mother and father still see things that way, and my awareness of it has helped me change a lot in that regard.

However, there is never an end to self-improvement!

The artist in me came alive when thinking of an alternative to viewing things in my life as “black and white.” Seeing things in “shades of gray” wasn’t even good enough for me.

I decided my “palette of emotion” would be far better displayed with infinite, colorful tones. It wasn’t about the pressure of failure or success anymore, because I began to wonder about all the colorful possibilities in between.

It dawned on me also that a lot of my energy was spent “wondering” about how to make all the other people in my life happy. I was very good at that, and had done it for a long time.

However, I celebrated the knowledge that my transformation was a result of my learning to make myself happy.

Nothing was going to deter me from appreciating that fact and continuing to find ways to improve my life and myself.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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I SING FROM MY HEART, PART 2

Posted on March 19, 2011 by Judy

“The Art of Singing”

Because I was an artist for thirty years, I see so many correlations of art to music. I love the concept of my voice having a “palette” of sounds.

Lately, I have become very aware of the sounds my voice produces. My voice teacher, Peaches, has really helped me to find those variations. It truly has been inspiring for me to discover breathy choices, or smiling moments when I sing.

In only a few weeks, it will be one year since I began working with Peaches. I wrote about my first lesson on Post #74 My Mid-life Turning Point.

The “art of singing” includes one of my favorite “art tips,” which applies to so many areas of my life. That would be my statement that “less is more.” When I was an illustrator, simplicity was always preferable to over-working my paintings.

When I was younger, I sang with abandon without really hearing myself as I sang. Passion was expressed with volume; I sang in higher keys and loudly!

When I learned to sing more softly instead of belting things out, it was a revelation for me. There are delicate tones in music, just as there are in a painting!

Certainly, singing is extremely complex, especially while I am playing my guitar. One of the areas that I am trying to improve upon is where I choose to sing my words.

I like the metaphor that singing my song is like “singing while on a conveyor belt.” I must always “move along” with a song. Sometimes I am moving comfortably and sometimes I wait – but there is always movement. If I fall behind, I “hop on” somewhere else. Sometimes I jump ahead, but always the song moves along.

Perhaps that is why I sometimes feel more comfortable singing with my guitar than with an arrangement. I control the movement of “the conveyor belt” and I am not focused on simply figuring out where to sing with my arrangement’s “predetermined” movements!

However, while playing my guitar there is a lot of “working memory” going on with keeping track of chords, lyrics, melody, and “the vibe.” I want to share about “the vibe,” which is another word for the mood of a song.

Trust me, when I began singing I did not give much thought about what the lyrics truly were saying. I knew I had sad songs and happy songs and I always loved to carry their melodies. However, in the past, I would sometimes think about something else while I was singing.

It was when I learned from listening to recordings of myself that all of this changed for me. It became clear to me that without a connection to the lyrics, the vocals were bland and empty.

So I never sing anymore while thinking about what I’ll be eating for dinner! That is even if I’m hungry while singing, because I never eat anymore before performing. I learned that lesson as a result of a challenging performance following a dinner of middle-eastern food.

It is very funny to share what singers learn through experience! Little burps and tastes of spices do not allow for the focus needed to sing clearly!

I was told once that to open up my voice on higher notes I could associate it with the physical feeling of “throwing up” because that allowed the throat to “open up” more. That was definitely not an image conducive to adding “feeling” to my performance!

There is no more singing for me where I am thinking of something else other than the words I am trying to convey!

The mind, heart, and the meaning of the words come together for me now when I play music. Perhaps that is why I often have great difficulty keeping my eyes open when I sing. The imagery is so powerful for me that I often cannot stay focused on what is around me. I must close my eyes.

Here is what I am thinking of as I sing some of my songs:

On “So Real,” I remember well how I could not face waking up in the morning. As I sing those words I am flooded back with the memory of wishing I were dead as the realization of grief began each and every morning.

On “Beside Me Always,” I remember how my son would have his tousled hair upon my shoulder and how his tiny, warm body would lie upon me. I actually feel him very strongly, especially when I sing the words “longing for the soul I’ve kissed.”

On “Saying Goodbye,” I see images easily when singing the lyric line of “and the flowers have all died.” After Jason’s funeral our house was full of flowers and as they died the ache of grief only intensified.

On “Another You,” I see Cheryl’s face smiling at me – her eyes are twinkling with love.

On “Memory of Love” and “You Were There” my sadness over losing my mother incrementally makes it difficult to sing those songs. Tears in my voice can translate into choking.

On “How We Don’t Care,” I marvel at how I haven’t changed much and still act like I don’t care when someone in my family hurts me! Thankfully though, I don’t have any trouble saying, “I love you.”

I could go on and on. Even when I sing, “cover songs,” I find images that I can relate to so I can feel the words.

When I recently sang John Denver’s song “Looking For Space” his lyrics jumped out to me:

“When I think that I’m moving, suddenly things stand still. I’m afraid ‘cause I think they always will!”

Wow, was that ever true for me, lately!

Lastly, I’ve said this before, and I cringe as I say it again. But it is so true for me.

Singing is as intimate as kissing to me. My intimate thoughts and feelings are channeled right from my mouth into the listener’s ears. This truth has become even clearer when my breath and lip noises can be heard on recordings!

Being honest comes easily for me. I used to hate hearing my recorded voice.

With honesty, I can share that I love the sound of my voice now.

PEACHES VOICE LESSON EXCERPT 3-18-11 #1

PEACHES VOICE LESSON EXCERPT 3-18-11 #2

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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LONELINESS FILLED MY DREAMS

Posted on March 17, 2011 by Judy

My mother before I was born.

“My mother will be fine with physical therapy”

I went to meet my mom at an appointment with the same orthopedic doctor she saw for a “second opinion” a month ago. He was very nice.

He looked at all the x-rays, and showed both my mother and me where the x-ray indicated her fractured hipbone was healing. He said it would only continue to become stronger over time.

My mother demonstrated movement by easily lifting both her legs without any pain. I mentioned that it was the “weight bearing” exercises that worried the physical therapist at her facility so much because my mom “grimaced.” He said a grimace was understandable and part of the process.

The doctor said that my mother would be fine with 50% weight-bearing exercises for two weeks and then full, weight-bearing exercises after that. He said it might be hard to do the 50%, but even a little at 100% would be okay.

He said the risk was slight, and he wanted another x-ray taken in two weeks time to make certain there wasn’t any displacement.

My mom was crying when she arrived at the appointment due to extreme confusion.

I was able to calm her and bring her back to reality, but it wasn’t easy. When the doctor explained to her that her hip was healing, she understood the implications. After the appointment, she was beaming.

I was really glad to see her relaxed and happy again, despite her struggle with dementia.

Who is this couple? Oh yeah, my parents!

I’ve decided the aging process is unbelievably painful for the entire family when it involves dementia.

“I could feel her grief”

I was definitely wearing a “Super Daughter cape” as I left my mother following her appointment. I wrestled with the “demon of dementia” and had won. My mother went from tears to joy as I steadily convinced her of the reality.

As I drove home, however, I still had the familiar, gnawing pain inside me. I wondered why I wasn’t more joyful that my mother had beaten the odds and survived her hip fracture without having surgery!

I decided that although I had a lot of things to do at home, I would stop and treat myself to a manicure. Since I bit my nails almost all my life, I marvel at the nails I started growing last July. Having a manicure is a way to reward myself and appreciate their beauty.

I realized with the difficult economy, the nail salon was certainly suffering since many people would consider a manicure a luxury to do without. It was one reason I had put it off.

I wrote a story a few months ago about a certain manicurist at the salon near my home. Her name was Thao, and she was Vietnamese. WHAT IS LEFT SINCE YOU DIED

Sure enough, the salon was empty when I went inside. Thao raced over to me, and I was glad to see her. She told me she had listened to the CD I had given her, but her player was now broken.

She was still very sad. Her eyes were large and despair was deep within. I could feel her grief.

As she worked on my nails, I asked her to tell me about the brother she loved so much who had died. She told me how he used to sing and play guitar. I asked her if she liked to sing too, but she said she couldn’t because it was too painful for her.

It turned out the date of his death was in a few weeks and that had certainly intensified her sadness. She said it would be two years since he died.

I asked her what she planned to do on that day. She said she would cook his favorite meal; she missed cooking for him. Then she told me in her halting English, “I want to cry all the time, but I don’t.”

I told her that those tears were important to release. I remembered that well. I said to her softly, “You know, letting those tears out allows for joy to come in. Not allowing pain, does not allow for pleasure either. Plus, it takes so much energy to hold tears in!”

Before I left, she ran to the back of the salon and brought out a picture to show me of her and her brother. Then, she insisted I take something home for lunch; it was a container of fried rice. I didn’t know what to do, because even though I don’t usually eat rice – I didn’t want to say no.

I also realized she had probably given away her own lunch. But she said to me, “Judy, you’ve done so much for me and I want to do something for you!”

I came home and tasted the rice. Steam started coming out of my ears, but I was grinning.

I could taste her appreciation.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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