Nosebleed in Snow

once upon a time
ink color of dried blood
not enough ink
dried out leaves

bully pushing my head into
cold cold snowbank
tasting crystals of snowflake
crunchy
cold
crushed

warm wet face chin drip drop
blood on snow beautiful bright
rainbow in my tears
i will never fit in

not enough paper to write
ink running out
can't fit into box

pages torn, cramming self into bud vase
how to pronounce "vase" without offending anyone
how to fit in
how to get enough space to breathe

nose keeps bleeding
snow falling silences cries
numbs the pain
covers up everything dirty and brown

Interview on mindfulness in education

Here is an interview with me explaining how my mindfulness practice changed me as a leader in education.

Choosing between pain relief and lethargy

Been having a slump this week. I think the new pain meds are making me too groggy to function. So hard to get out of bed, been missing my 6 AM morning meditation and then the rest of the day doesn't tend to be very productive. By the time it gets to 2 or 3 PM, I'm too dispirited to do the afternoon meditation.

I'm going to call my psychiatrist and tell him I want to discontinue the new pain meds. Meditating makes me feel a lot better and has no side effects besides taking 2 hours out of my day. 

Taking 2 hours to meditate every day seemed like a lot to me. But with these meds, I'm losing most of every day and feeling like there's no point in leaving the apartment.  Frankly, I'd rather live with the pain and feel more alive.

Co-Blogging with a Fledgling Storyteller

Slowly Blossoming: About a year ago, I attended a retreat for creative artists at Blue Cliff Monastery. There I met a woman with a gentle smile and open eyes. Her name is Mia and she's a teacher, handmade paper artist and fledgling storyteller living in Philadelphia.

I've invited Mia to co-blog with me for this post about gratitude.

Mia: Thank you so much for inviting me to blog with you. I can't believe that it's been almost a year since we met. I am so grateful that we got to meet and get to know each other!

Slowly Blossoming: This is a Gratitude Mandala I made on Sunday, September 8, 2013, when the pain in my arms was about three out of 10 on the pain scale.

Lately I've been feeling thankful for the medications that help me handle depression, chronic pain and fatigue.

Slowly Blossoming: While spooning turmeric onto the blue plate, I give thanks to my acupuncturist who blogs about food as medicine. She suggested that I take a spoonful of turmeric with honey daily. The bright yellow powder is bitter and chalky, so the honey sweetens every spoonful. Sometimes I mix turmeric into my tea instead.

Mia: It is so nice to hear you thinking about the positive, helpful, and healing things and people in your life. It's so amazing that something as simple and small as a spoonful of honey or a plant's root, stem, or flower can have so many healing elements inside.

yoga for people with chronic pain

While on retreat for my birthday, I went for an Ayurvedic massage. The practitioner observed that my ligaments are extremely tight, including the back and shoulders even more than my arms, wrists and hands. Her advice was for me to practice pranayama, breathing exercises emphasizing slow smooth breaths, for 20 minutes a day.

In searching for sound files to guide me through these breathing exercises, I found a blog written by a yoga teacher who is living with MS (multiple sclerosis). I haven't had time to read more of her blog, but am excited to discover her approach to living with chronic pain, fatigue, and unpredictable days.

Here is the link to her blog:
http://chaosandunderstanding.tumblr.com/

Here is the link to the breathing exercise podcast I started using yesterday:
http://yogaempowered.blogspot.com/2011/06/dropping-in.html

Painomenology, or playing the pain scale

I've never quite understood the pain scale that physicians and physical therapists use. It sounds simple enough. "Rate your pain on a scale from 1 to 10, with one being the least amount of pain and 10 the worst pain."

The thing is: pain can't be measured on a linear scale. It has so many dimensions, and it shifts its shape according to the noise level, the people around me, the activity that I'm trying to do, my fatigue levels, and the availability of beautiful distractions.

Asking me to describe my pain on a scale of 1 to 10 is like asking a dog to assign a letter grade A through F to rate an item she is wolfing down.

During my brother's hip replacement surgery, I observed that he was not using the pain scale accurately, and in fact was refusing to take any pain medication. I blogged about it during the silence project, here.

I've been using the pain scale a lot recently, as I visit the physical therapist 3 times weekly. During my recent reprieve, I discovered to my delight that I can play the balafon a little bit if I hold the sticks quite lightly and make sure to remain completely relaxed.  Where does that fall on a scale of 1 to 10?