Empty hangers …

Today I was looking in my closet for a certain piece of clothing. I was going walking and while it is brisk, I did not want my rain pants because they make noise. I wanted warmth without the noise. So I travelled along the hangers. No, no, no …. And then I came along a group of empty hangers. I moved them to the end of the line. Close to the wall and stopped to ponder them. 

These hangers used to be filled with clothes. Where did they go? What clothes hung on them? I could not remember. It is funny because in my other closet there is a plastic garbage bag filled with my cast offs. The clothes that used to hang on these hangers. I cannot even remember them. My decision was I will put these here and then if something surfaces that I miss I can retrieve it. Now I cannot even remember what clothes are in this bag, let alone miss any of them! 

It caused me to reflect on my life after 65 years on this planet. What memories, thoughts and experiences have I placed in a holding pattern in my heart only to never retrieve them? Most recently while listening to a book, I had cause to remember something from over 10 years ago. In shame and turmoil, I mulled it around in my mind, thinking “what was I thinking?” and proceeded to walk through that very day. 

My conclusion is I was selfish and lost. The actions of that day were of a desperate and lonely person who was seeking activity to dull the pain while they drank themselves stupid. I walked the journey with that part of me that was so broken and lost, held hands and forgave myself. The empty hanger had something on it once again. I had pulled that cast off memory out and rehung it in my mind’s closet to possibly wear again. Was this wise?

As I looked over this memory hanging there in my mind, I realized I have come so far. Healed and changed my life for the better and the lesson I learned is when I am hurting I do dumb things, so I need to manage my hurts better! In that, with my personal growth and the changes I have struggled through and put on the empty hangers are for the good and I am better for them all. 

I reached into the closet of my mind and pulled that memory back off the hanger and put it back into the bag. I said goodbye to it knowing I will not need to pull it out again as I have carried the lessons learned forward and do not need the actions to remind me anymore. I can put that memory out at the roadside for the trash. It is not for recycling or for donation, it is garbage now. The carcass has been picked clean, time to release it into the abyss of my memory dump with Bing Bong (Inside Out reference, if you have not seen it you are missing out) and soar with Joy back to the present consciousness. 

In this shift of consciousness, we are witnessing it is time to begin to gather in community with like-minded people who realize the old maps need to go and there is a new way to view the divine source and the ancient stories we have been told. Reach into the closet and purge those old ideas hanging there and toss them into the memory dump of your psyche. Leave behind the empty hanger and watch for something beautiful and helpful to hang there once again. 

January 2024 …. I am stunned at this date! I remember well the turn of the Y2K and it’s baggage and concerns. I remember the 90’s with the padded shoulders and the 80’s with the hair beginning to grow bigger. My little Honda Civic that was so cute and my very first new car! And I remember my behaviours ….

Today, I woke up to the sun shining. It seems like forever since we saw the sun. My sister just wrote me an email and in it she asked me, “what is that big yellow thing in the sky?” I laughed because we do not realize until it is not there how much we miss it. The old, OLD, saying, “you don’t miss anything until it is gone!” That said the sun is never truly gone it is just behind the clouds. That too is a metaphor for life. What clouds cover the sunshine in your life?

I was making a coffee and, unlike most people in the year 2024, I use an old small cone style filter. I boil water in the kettle, put the ground coffee into a white paper filter and then pour the water over into a stainless steel “go” cup. I have done this for years. One of those things one begins doing and before you know it, it is a tradition or a habit. It sits precariously there as I pour. Soothing actually, watching the water slowly go down and the grounds sticking to the sides of the filter. 

My friend does pour over as well. She likes to be sure to pour the water around in a circle to push all the grounds down to the bottom of the cone. I like to pour into the middle and let the grounds float and land wherever they want, leaving them high on the sides. My friend and I have two different ways of completing the same task. Yet another metaphor for life. What do you do different from another to achieve the same goal? What makes anything the “right” way to do it?

I digress, anyway,  I went to turn, and you guessed it! The precarious cone full of water and coffee grounds was knocked off its perch and spilled all over the counter, the floor and the face of the kitchen cabinets. This is a scene I replay in my mind most mornings. I look at that cone and think, “I must be careful, mindful, I don’t send it flying, as it would be a terrible mess!” Yet another metaphor for life. What is going on right now, every day, that perches precariously, with you knowing one wrong move and you would have a mess?

January is a time when many of us set goals, resolutions and quests for the upcoming year. These precarious cones of mess we have traditionally created are perched delicately waiting for us to make the wrong move. Do we continue this way of life? Or do we begin to make changes to create a more solid platform for our actions? 

As I looked at the mess, I turned to the sink and got the dish cloth. I began wiping up the grounds, the water and my precious coffee. Most of the coffee was still protected and standing tall in the stainless-steel double walled cup. I took a moment and realized, like this coffee, I felt safe and protected. While I might have a spill around me, some chaos and a bit of a mess, most of me is calm and just standing by. 

That is most people’s January wish. To feel safe, calm and to settle the chaos. How much chaos is in your life? We all need a little to keep us on our toes. The Buddhist’s would say life is nothing but chaos and that nothing is solid, I agree to a certain degree. I agree life is never certain, what is certain is our reaction to it all. 

As I wiped up the spillage, I smiled and noticed the sun shining in the window showing the dust on the tables. I felt the calm in my soul knowing this mess can be cleaned up. I witnessed my healthy heart, never skipping a beat at the mess. I felt glory in the way I simply realized the mess and began the task of sorting it all out. A few years ago, this kind of moment would send me to the bottle not the coffee and create tears and spillage of my soul. 

January may be a time to assess our lives because it is the beginning of a new year. To continue this assessment and make meaningful changes takes stamina and inner strength. Will Power will come visit and then leave again the first of February, but fear not. Each time you work at it you are building your own strength. 

In this new year, may you find your own spillage to be the realizing calm in your storm. May you know the sun is never gone, it is only behind the clouds and will return. You can do it! Take yourself to task and spill away! 

When I was 9 months pregnant with my first child, I was at a fitness class and someone said, “You are pregnant! How far along?” They nearly fell over when I told them “Nine months, actually today is my due date!” She was born about a week later! I had been active throughout the whole pregnancy and, subsequently, my delivery, recovery and experience went well. I contribute it to my desire to keep fit.

Here we are 37 years later and I am still fit, active and challenging myself. Alongside of the recent announcement of our #helpbolivia fitness challenge, I simply keep moving. Just yesterday outside of a 32 kms cycling in the morning I still managed to fulfill my daily 10,000 step challenge! I take the stairs, park further away from any location I am going to, I walk the halls at work. This is all in an effort to maintain my ability to keep moving.

Today, I completed the Aging Adult Fitness Certificate. Most of what I saw was review, however I was pleased at how much I learned and the depth of education I gleaned. #canfitpro has been my teacher for other programs. I am a certified group fitness instructor, personal trainer and completed the healthy eating and weight loss program. I kept up my education with help from IDEA and the YMCA and have spent over 40 years learning about fitness.

Now at 64 years old, I see the benefits. Do you need to spend over 40 years to be fit? NO! Start today and you could see tremendous benefits in your health and wellness within a few weeks.

I am looking for guinea pigs, OOOPs, I mean friends who I can share this latest certificate learning.

What if:

– You could feel more alive?

– You could move more freely?

– You are able to stand up and sit down without pain?

I would like to help and I want the testimonials. Start light and start today. I can help!

#breakingstibah

#agingadultfitness

#seniorliving

#over60fitness

Spiritual care is the root of our healthy living. When we speak and listen to the spirit we hear the divine source speaking with us. I have decided to stretch this spiritual reach back into my past and rekindle the fitness training I have acquired.

This year I have completed a ½ marathon in March and will soon complete a 28 km cross country race. In September, I will attempt a 50 km cross country ultra and then on the back of that head to England to solo hike and wild camp my way through the Cotswolds. As I stretch my own spiritual reach I test my aging body.

Come along for the ride with me. I will be publishing you tube videos on our DanCyn’ Adventures channel and hope you will subscribe. Pray for me, if you pray, and if not simply send me white light and good thoughts as you head through your day! I hope you are reaching your own goals and aspirations!

At what point does the story you tell about your past become the crutch you use to keep from moving? At what point do you begin to use your story, and the telling of it, to remind yourself why you are unhappy, stuck and challenged? At what point does this story, which is most often never true, need to be set down, let go and abandoned by the side of the road?

Did you know as we TELL stories we receive the chemical hit in our brains that occurred when it actually happened? You have 14 seconds after an event to react and respond and from then on you are acting upon the memory. Then as the need for the chemical gets more demanding, we then begin to add detail, colour and action to the event in order to continue to get the needed chemical thrill.

I practice holy witness …. I allow people to tell me their story and then I ask them to let it go. Feel the pain and the sense of injustice and then know you have come through. It is then time to begin living life again. Over the past, in working with the aging, I have learned how it is in our best interest if we want sympathy, compassion and attention we must continue to tell our story. We get the “oh no!”s and the “Wow”s and the “I can’t imagine”s and it feeds our chemical brain’s addiction. When we stop telling the old story and tell a new one of present day, exciting times and how we are coming through the pain our lives are enriched.

So I ask, at what point do you begin to let go of the old story? The point is now. The time has come.

Can I be your holy witness? Can you tell it one more time and then decide to let it go? It is up to you! When will you truly bloom?

#dancynadventures

#ecospirituality

#agingwell

Today I decided to disassemble a puzzle I have completed. There are a few pieces yet to put in place but the fun parts that were exciting and challenging are finished. All that is left is the ambiguous pieces that just take hours of trial and error with each piece to see if they fit because they are all the same colour and there is little sense of distinction. I feel it is completed. 

I pulled out the box and thought to myself how nice it is when people put puzzles into bags with a zip at the top. It seems to contain them better and protects the pieces as the box gets worn. There is less likelihood of loss. I went to my middle slider of the only bank of drawers in my wee kitchen. As I pulled it open and viewed the contents I was catapulted back to my mother’s kitchen. The greatest chunk of my childhood was lived in an old house on the main road. It was built in 1862. I know this specifically because my father had purchased those numbers and put them on the house. Many people thought it was our address. 

This old house, built in 1862, was many things. A post office, a funeral home and then a private home which dad bought in 1971. My mother was so excited to move to “town”. Town being a loose term for the tiny village where the house could loosely be seen as on the outskirts. She had pined to get off the farm, move from the dead end of a lane, and be in the thick of things. She wanted to move from a place that I now dream of living. Funny how things come ‘round. 

Anyway, back to the drawer. My mother’s kitchen, in this old house, I believe was constructed in 1862, when the house was built! The layers of paint, I am sure, had they been tested, could have been filled with lead and the insides were a playground for the tiny critters that lived alongside us in this old place. The cupboards were built in place with no boxes, like today, that would contain the contents. 

The old drawer she had housed everything from bread ties to recycled plastic bags. There were “pig nose” sockets and screwdrivers. Boxes of foil wrap, wax paper and extension cords. In the corners you could find crumbs and lots of little particles of unknown origins. There was tape, a loose screw, and the odd dowel. Like the wardrobe in a C.S. Lewis novel, if you opened this drawer you could enter an alternate universe. To my child’s thinking it was a mess, today it would be a treasure trove. 

As I pulled open the drawer in my kitchen this day, I found it to be much the same as my mother’s drawer. Minus the obvious mouse turds surely found in a home built in 1862, there were crumbs, wire ties, boxes of foil wrap, parchment paper and recycled bread bags. No extension cords mind you. There was a plastic jar with measuring spoons, and many recycled brown lunch bags. I looked for a plastic zip bag for my puzzle. 

The box that held any new bags had been disposed of long ago. All I found were used bags. Some with crumbs and some without. Some a little cloudy and some with used parchment paper. With pride I held these bags to my chest and cried a little. This treasure trove of a drawer connected me with my mother once again. Gave me the moment to be thankful for her quirks, her annoying habits and her frugal nature. The story of having $2 from cream to buy a week’s groceries flashed into my mind and her frustration with her 1862 set of kitchen cupboards rang in my head like the chimes of an English church steeple. 

As I work with the aging, I am reminded again and again that all we have are memories and teachings from our past to keep us going. The older I get the more memories I accumulate and the more precious each day, I live, becomes. As I work with the aging and watch as families fuss and fret over guilt and annoyances, I want to call from the mountain top, “just be present”. 

My mother’s drawer, like in a C.S. Lewis novel, takes me back and as I realized I could not put the puzzle pieces into a used bag along with crumbs of my past. I gathered up the puzzled and put it in the box. As I pulled apart the pieces of the picture, I realized my mother’s drawer is just that, a piece of puzzle in a life that will one day be put together by my children and grandchildren as they remember their own mother’s drawer. 

How often do you look outside of yourself and then imagine yourself in that place where you look? It takes some presence of mind to be in a place other than where you are. Is that too cryptic? 

I was travelling down the 400 highway this past week and noted, as we sat in traffic, there were cars speeding along on the far left side. I watched and then realized that it was the HOV lane. Mostly empty, the odd car sped along, while we sat or moved along slowly. I envisioned myself speeding along that lane. Then I realized in order to do so I would need another person in the car. It caused me to ponder then, how often do I drive with someone else in the car?

There was another time I had someone in the car with me and as we sat in the same traffic flow, I needed to be prompted to take the HOV lane, because it was so foreign to me, I did not know to use it. 

What does HOV stand for? Do you know? High Occupancy Vehicle. Saying that, when you travel with more than one person you have privilege. What does it say about us that this lane is so rarely used? What does it mean that it is abandoned, or vacant, while hundreds of single drivers pollute the air sitting alongside this empty lane? Would it not make sense to just let everyone use it and that would mean we would move quicker? I truly do not know. 

As I looked outside of myself and imagined myself speeding along this HOV lane I wondered, who would I have with me? Who are the companions in my life that walk with me? This created more pondering and wondering. I truly have a very small circle of people in my life. I realize that. I have chosen to walk alone, and it started years ago when my ego was so fragile, and I was hiding parts of myself from others. My companions were poor life’s choices, anger and self-pity. As I looked at the HOV lane I wondered is my life a “high occupancy vehicle” or am I just one more on a journey of loneliness too afraid to trust or to be vulnerable enough to take someone else along on the journey. Am I too afraid of being judged and laughed at? Am I doing things people should judge and ridicule? 

Today, I feel free of judgement because I live with integrity and the companion that travels well in my HOV lane is my own soul. I live as though I am in a fishbowl, and all are looking at me. Mostly I live remembering I am being watched by my own spirit. Like a child learning and mimicking, I live as a good example for my own heart. This brings me such peace that even when I sit in the lanes that are slow to move, while no one else can see, I never am alone. 

In the United Church creed, it starts out, “We are not alone, we live in God’s world.” What exactly does that mean? It means we live in companionship with that which created the stars in the sky, the sun and the moon. The trees that now are bare of leaves and the ones that remain covered all winter. We have been created and live in partnership with the snail that slowly crosses the path, the seagulls that hang on the wind, the fish that with the slightest swish of the tail move silently through the water. We live in companionship with evolution and are constantly changing. While sitting in traffic on the 400 alone in a car, we are never alone if we do not want to be. We reflect that which is pure, good and holy. When we remember that, we can hop into the HOV lane of our lives and fly with great speed.

May you never feel alone.

May you know you can fly when you choose.

May you look outside of yourself and then imagine yourself in that place where you look.

Language and the power of choice are two ways we speak to the world. Language can come out of our mouth or out of actions or speak from the heart, with energetic force. Choice is how we live every day, and with each choice the consequence falls forward like the clocks in the spring taking us into a new light and a new place to exist. 

The weather this week has been amazing, and I attempted to take full advantage. I was so thankful that I could drive with ease and not need the freshly minted snow tires! I hiked and I walked when I could. I parked in the furthest spot so I could take in the day as I crossed the tarmac, feeling the sun on my face. My pleasure was beyond words. I could not articulate how deeply happy I feel. My choice is to live each day finding the good, the bad and seeing what could be ugly and attempting to see it through my rose coloured glasses.

I went into work and began my shift. Another day with familiar people. I come to my workplace however I must remember the duality. While this may be my workplace, it is also their home. This is a contrast that many others will not witness in any other job. Caregiving is intimate and is personal and a very private matter, taking place in the “home” of the client. Feeling safe and cared for is my job, the mechanics of it are secondary. 

The language I use, and my choices will make or break a person’s confidence and trust in me. Sometimes I chuckle to myself when an older person corrects me when I call their personal hygiene a “brief”. They will call to me, “it is a diaper, let’s be honest!” Their label is a statement, reminding anyone in earshot they choose to see it as a negative instead of a helping hand in their lives. 

As we age the body begins to breakdown. Biologically the body is built to breakdown. I would argue it is our need and desire to stay alive at all cost that is the enemy here, not the breakdown of the body. Each day I work with 20+ different people all in different places in their lives, different stages and much different cognitive ability. I watch and I learn, and I listen.

The language I use with them, like calling their underwear a “brief” instead of a “diaper” is important. They can choose to call it whatever they like, however I hope with my language I will encourage them to see it as an aid, not a defining factor. I am patient as I can be and let them be who they are in any given moment, because like a child exploring their territory, aging adults are exploring this new world of theirs as well. I worked with one client who while he was thanking, and thanking, me for my service to him, asked me, “do you know how old I am?” and I honestly did not know. He said, “I am 98!” and I looked at him in wonder. We talked and we chatted, and I asked him about all the things he had seen in his 98 years. I finished up with his brief, took off his support stockings, covered him up with is favorite fuzzy blanket and waved goodnight from the door. His last words were, “thank you so much my dear, I appreciate your help so much!” In his room is a bed, a tv and two chairs, yet he is so content with his life. He said to me, “did you see the moon tonight?” and, also he said, when I asked if he wanted his headphones, “they aren’t working, I don’t know why.” I figured it out and he happily put them on to watch a little television.

Another person was so excited to see me at 7 PM as she can let down her day by putting on her nightie and relax after taking off the support hose. The phone rang while we were working together and she said, “let it go, I know who it is! I can call them back.” I reached for the phone and said, “just answer and let them know!” It was her son who calls her every night. I did not want him to worry, nor did I want her to miss his call. We talked about the fears of children in a world that is so scary. I rubbed cream on her legs and snuggled her into her freshly washed nightie, housecoat and slippers and we folded her clothes and put them away. 

These are stories of choice. People who in their aging choose contentment right where they are. The language we use together is light and conversational, a blessing to my ragged day at times. The other side of the coin is the gentle struggle we have with those whose dementia has caused paranoia and distrust of all that is around them. Those whose body is so painful and riddled with illness they can only burst with complaints and frustration with why they must live that way. Choice is not always easy. 

In your youth and health are you choosing how you feel each day or are you living in a place where your wounds and your past experiences are the fodder for your future? Each day do you strive to choose to be happier, accept the past and work it through picking up the lessons learned? Take a day and work with an elderly person and listen to their past and realize no life is carefree and no life is without challenge. It is how we choose to live and in what language we speak that brings hope and faith. To all my colleagues in care … remember the important job you do … and to those care giving at home, love it and get the support you need. 

Cynthia Breadner is a teacher, author, grief specialist and bereavement counsellor; a soul care worker and offers specialized care in spiritually integrated therapies. She works as a LTC chaplain assisting with end-of-life care for client and family.  She is the mother part of the #DanCynAdventures duo and practices fitness, health and wellness.  She is available remotely by safe and secure video connections, if you have any questions contact her today!  CynthiaBreadner@gmail.com  breakingstibah.com