Light Workers and You

I was introduced to the term “light worker” years ago when I was studying to become a reiki master. It was so intriguing that I read up on the subject once I was certified. 

Light workers are walking among us. They are energy workers, artists, physical and spiritual healers. You know them when you meet one. You experience a shift in energy just by being in the same space. 

After reading several articles about this phenomenon I started thinking about all the healers in my life. My minister, my artist friends, my mom, and my mentors. 

You don’t have to have a title or job description or even any formal training to be one. It’s who you are at your core.

Some questions to ask yourself: Do people feel safe around you? Are you open-hearted and approachable? Are you able to be present with someone who is struggling without trying to “fix” them? Do strangers want to talk to and connect on a deeper level with you? Are you unafraid to lean into a difficult emotional discussion when someone is pouring their heart out to you?

I have a friend that when we met and shook hands I immediately felt light-worker energy. It was like getting hit with a lightning bolt. We became friends instantly and I’ve encouraged her to study reiki. She is an artist. Her career choice and success at it are proof enough to me that she carries this internal light needed to help her audience connect with not just her but with themselves.

You know you’ve been with a light worker because you FEEL it during and especially after an interaction. If you’ve had a massage, your therapist is likely doing reiki at the same time so that deep sense of grounding is not just the body work but the spiritual work as well.

Healing from any trauma or grief or pain is a whole-person effort. We like to talk about our nervous systems like they’re somehow separate from our bodies. Or that our hearts breaking are not also our souls breaking at the same time. 

Light workers understand that you cannot heal in a vacuum. You need to be held by a loving energy that considers all of your being. 

Do you think you might know one or be one? If so, notice people’s comfort level around you/them. Do you feel a deep need to be present for others? Are you unafraid to sit with someone’s messy feelings if it helps them get through it? Are you ok with being present for the dying and having honest conversations around their fears and regrets?

If so, you are a light worker and we all need to step up our game for the good of humanity. We live in dark times where the destruction of kindness and compassion reigns. Where human life is not valued by many of our leaders. And where deep feelings are openly mocked by a movement that equates brutality with strength, and kindness with weakness.

I’ve referenced a site below that I don’t have a connection to but it describes what a light worker is better than I can.

https://innergrowthcenter.com/signs-you-are-a-lightworker/

Are you one? Have you experienced being in the presence of one? Will you join me in embracing the gift and spreading that energy into a broken world? 

It will take all of us to bring healing and a deep sense of peace to our neighbors around the planet (and the planet itself). And, as always, it starts with the light workers among us. Join me. 

Shiny Things

I was raised Catholic so Easter has a lot of strong memories for me. Shiny new patent leather shoes that we bought at a shoe store in Nashua where the salesman put your little foot into a metal measuring tool.  I still remember the excitement. We kids had two pairs of shoes — school and play. So dressy shoes were a special treat.

If the weather was bad I was not allowed to wear my dressy shoes as we walked to church. I remember how upset I would get because I felt robbed of my fancy shoes and who wants to show off your fancy dress with rain boots. I mean, it ruined the whole vibe. 

Culture is much less concerned with those things now. Everyone drives everywhere because we’re so over-scheduled and live farther away from places especially being in the suburbs. Churches are fewer too. And as a society we’ve gotten much less interested in pantyhose and shiny shoes. 

My paternal grandparents lived a block away from church but rarely attended church together and we would visit them after mass. My grandmother was an English Anglican and my grandfather was Irish Catholic. 

Their union was an abomination 100 years ago and they kept a low profile at Easter. My grandpa had to sneak his kids into churches in other communities because my nana’s absence would be questioned by their neighbors. And once the priest found out about my nana they would ostracize my grandpa and his kids. That would then force them to go to churches in other towns.

I never understood religious bigotry until I was older. I still have a hard time with it. My dad knew it and lived it as a child and he and my mom (bless them both) raised their own kids to be anti-prejudice and accepting of others who were different. 

So we’d show up with our new shiny outfits every Easter and my grandparents would consider that visit to be their Easter worship. They loved my mom because she never cared about anything other than who people were in their hearts. 

On Easter I take a moment to remember those days. And feel overwhelming gratitude that my parents raised their kids to break the cycle of bigotry and speak out loudly against it. My siblings and I are all better people because of that. I believe I’m in this church right now because of them and my dad’s parents. 

I’ve swapped out shiny shoes for cowboy boots. And Catholicism for Unitarian Universalism but the core values I learned at Easter still remain. Love your neighbor, celebrate spring, and be open-hearted. 

I light the chalice today for shiny shoes and shiny memories. May we teach our children love, acceptance, and compassion at Easter and always. 

Lighting the Chalice for my Spiritual Home

First Parish Church, Chelmsford MA

When I was trying to figure out what to talk about today I was reminded by my husband Ron that this week marks 20 years since we first started attending First Parish. 

TWENTY YEARS.

It’s gone by quickly but has produced so many memories for me. High school youth groups, pot luck dinners, Coming of Age mentorships, new member gatherings, small group discussions, and lots more.

The Gift of Generosity is the Soul Matters theme for this month and as I look back on the past 20 years, I am struck by the generosity of First Parish. Not just the monetary generosity that has kept our church community healthy and thriving, both for us and for our next generations. But also the generosity of spirit that I’ve experienced here.

I see it every day especially as a member of the Pastoral Care and Service Team. Not just our team but many others here are dedicated to helping our community and its members be whole.

At social hour we host a table for folks to come by and write a card to someone who is in need of some emotional support. Maybe they’ve experienced a loss, or are unable to attend in person, or are going through a difficult time. It’s so beautiful to see our table bustling with activity. It’s there that I witness just one of the many places that displays the generosity of spirit that, to me, defines First Parish. 

That generosity was the first thing I noticed when I arrived here 20 years ago. We were warmly welcomed by others during the service and then we took another leap of faith by joining complete strangers for coffee downstairs after the service. We were surrounded by folks who genuinely wanted to make us feel included and valued. 

It is this spiritual generosity that keeps me here at my second home. In a country that is becoming increasingly intolerant of any and all religions, and anything that is not in their narrow view of the world, I find even more reasons to belong to First Parish where I am accepted for who I am with all my faults, my beliefs, and my questions. 

So I light the chalice today for the generosity that Ron and I have received here and for the hope that First Parish will always be here to envelop others in that same spirit.

A tribute to a legendary friend and human

 Below is the eulogy for my dear friend Carlene.  She was one of a kind.

 Good morning. My name is Kathy Deschenes and I’m a member of Carlene’s Small Group. We are one of several groups at First Parish that meet monthly to discuss the important things in life like love, courage, and commitment. The rest of the group: Bill, Leslie, Sally, Frans, Gail and others who came before us are here in spirit and I share some of their thoughts today as well.

Our group meant a lot to Carlene because it embodied her belief that community and connection are the most important gifts a church can give to its members. We are all, not just our small group members, better connected because of her work to ensure that everyone felt heard and welcomed in this, her second home.

Carlene brought her skills as a facilitator to church gatherings whether it was our small group, the many church events where she ran the kitchen with absolute precision, retreats where we gathered to share our dreams for a better community, and of course with the high school youth group where her influence helped young people go into the world with an understanding of their faith but more importantly of their responsibility to make the world more loving and just for everyone.

Our small group discussions were not just discussions. She gently pushed us to both explore our beliefs and better articulate how we could live our values in a way that would make a difference.

She and I would often compare notes after a small group meeting. She always wanted to know what worked, what didn’t, and how to make the next meeting even better. She was always looking to improve our experience so that we could get the most out of our time together. It was never about Carlene. Ever.

Carlene planned fun trips for us each summer. We would often go to group member Ellen Mellen’s summer home in Gloucester for lunch and a chat on Ellen’s porch overlooking the Annisquam river. Carlene’s love of nature and the wonders of life were palpable. She was amazed at every breeze, every ripple of water, every bee that buzzed. She would sit on that porch for hours and just marvel at the unbelievable beauty of the earth. I know that somehow she and Ellen are sitting on that porch with our beloved Larry and Kirk who passed recently as well, facilitating a discussion about what they learned.

 We opened every meeting with a check-in. Given what was going on in our lives, this time could go longer than expected. But she always gave us the space to speak honestly and never once did anyone feel like they were not in a safe place to share. She spoke often of her children and grandchildren and, of course, the love or her life - Norman. Her love and pride would fill her up and spill over into our circle. The group feels that we know you all because of those moments and we ache for your loss.

She made everything look easy though we all knew that she struggled physically and we would have been happy if she wanted to rest instead of organizing us every month. But she felt that her work was not done. That as long as there were people she could help live a more meaningful existence, she would not rest. And that’s what made Carlene the shining light that she was.

She touched all of our lives as individuals as well. Holding us as we grieved our personal losses, encouraging us to get out of our comfort zones, challenging us to communicate our feelings in ways that were respectful to ourselves and to others.

Carlene gave me the greatest gift of my life. I was unable to have children which I rarely discussed but she knew it was a sadness that I carried. Many years ago, she encouraged me to get involved with the teens here at First Parish. I became a youth mentor and, after mentoring ME for a few years, she handed the reigns of the high school group over to me.

The relationships I have with many of those youth have filled a hole in my heart that nothing else could. Carlene knew that. She never used that as a reason for getting me involved, but she knew. She always knew.

We will all go forward with the lessons Carlene taught us. Our group will stay together and honor her at every meeting. We will take the wisdom she shared with us about inclusion, courage, and humor in the face of great adversity, and share them with the world. Her work here is not done. She has set the bar high for the foot soldiers she leaves behind but we will carry on with our leader’s example as our shield.

And miss her love and guidance. Always.

Chronic Illness and Empathy

This is a blog post I've been wanting to write for a while but haven't because I've feared that it will lead to pity - something I don't want from anyone, especially myself. Pity is demoralizing and tends to dehumanize as well, turning the pitied person into the embodiment of everything bad in life. No one deserves that kind of characterization.

But living with chronic, degenerative illnesses like I do every day is something a lot of people don't hear about and therefore don't understand. We become invisible to society because we would rather disappear under the bedsheets than be a burden to anyone. And that is a great disservice to society and humanity in general. We are all formed by our experiences - good and bad - and so ignoring the bad makes us less human. Americans tend to want to look strong and independent in order to be accepted and admired by others. It's a toxic societal trait that I want to change. And  therefore the reason for this post.

I became chronically ill 18+ years ago in my mid-forties when my life was seemingly at its best. My career was taking off, I was in good shape physically, I was passionate about the non-profits I was leading as a board member, I was traveling the world, and I was constantly out with friends having fun.

Doctors couldn't figure out why I became so exhausted all the time because every test they did was perfect. I was given the diagnosis of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS) and sent on my way. 

Skip to today. 

My life now is very different. I'm only able to work half-time at a job that is laughable compared to where I was in my career. The only travelling my husband and I do is by car. I rarely go out at night and when I do, I pay dearly for it. My volunteer work is very limited. I cannot even go for short walks never mind regain my gym routine.

I started seeing specialists in Boston who have developed tests to prove that those with CFS have diagnosable diseases. So I now have Dysautonomia and Small Fiber Polyneuropathy (SFPN) added to my medical chart. Both of these are mostly untreatable though I am on some off-label use meds that have helped in some areas.

My five-hour work days (Mon-Thu) start with my being awakened out of a dead sleep by my alarm at 8:15 am. It takes a while for me to get up and start the day because I get lightheaded and dizzy when I stand up. I drag myself through showering, dressing, and eating a small breakfast. The IBS kicks in as soon as I eat and I spend the rest of the day alternating between popping Tums and running to the bathroom. 

During the day, I break into massive sweating episodes, drag my legs around the office, struggle to write because my hands don't work correctly any more, and pop Aleve for the excrutiating, non-stop "coat hanger pain" that affects my neck, shoulders and upper back.

When I get home from work, I try to do little things like water my flowers in the summer, pay some bills, do laundry. Then I put on my pajamas and fall onto the couch in so much pain and so completely exhausted that I can't even think straight. If I've done my weekly grocery shopping that day, I have to lay down on the couch before I'm able to be upright again. And when I'm in a bad flare from overdoing things, I have stroke-like symptoms: I can't form words, my vision gets very blurry, and I am unable to process any information coming at me.

Dinner is usually something easy like a sandwich or a bowl of soup. After dinner, I'm back on the couch vaping medical marijuana which is the only thing I've found that helps the pain and the nausea, and also helps me sleep at night. I watch the news and surf social media to connect with what I feel is an ever-shrinking world for me.

The full-body pain at night is a level that defies description. But I'll try. My legs are the worst. They feel like tree trunks that are on fire while a logger is hacking away at the wood. Deep deep pain, muscle spasms, and stinging/burning nerve pain. It does improve quite a bit once the cannibas finally kicks in but not always. Until that time I have moments that the pain is so intense that I can't breathe.

I go to bed and sleep anywhere from 10-13 hours. Then my day starts again. I used to do more on my three days off but even meeting friends for lunch has become difficult now. I feel like I need to sleep/rest for three days in order to get through four days of part-time work.

No one sees just how bad I am except for my husband, my medical team when performing grueling tests, and my sister and her family who I sometimes spend weekends with.

When I'm with other people including at work, you would likely never know just how bad I am. I smile, I laugh, I tell jokes, I hustle around getting things done. Because like most people with illnesses like mine, I don't want my life defined by my disease. I love being with people. It makes me happy to feel like I've still got quality of life. So I pretend. And stuff it all down until I get home.

Saying "no" to things I always enjoyed doing is heartbreaking for me. Every year I say no to more and more things. Some are simple things like food I enjoyed that now makes me violently ill. I've already had to say no to the bigger things like my career that I miss more than anything else. So the simple things were all I had left. And even those are disappearing now.

My future is not bright. I expect to get worse and I anticipate a shorter life which makes me sad. I want to see my nieces and nephews grow up and get settled. I have young people in my life who I've mentored and have become family to me. I want to see what they do with their lives too and be a part of them somehow. 

I feel constant guilt about not being the partner I always expected to be for my husband. He has had to work longer than he wants so I can have the good health insurance I need. And he does so much for me that I am no longer able to do for myself. 

This is all I wanted to say, I guess, so that others will understand that not all of us are living the life you think we are based on how we interact in public. We don't want your sympathy or pity just your understanding and respect for the boundaries we need to put in place in order to get through the day.

If you can remember my story when you encounter someone who might need to keep conversations short, or cancel plans last minute, or is struggling to process something you've said, then this post is worth all the energy it took to write. 

Legacy Letter

I took a course at my church this year where we explored the aging process. At the end, we were asked to write a "legacy letter". Something to leave behind for others where we share our life lessons. I'm sure mine will grow as I continue to age (otherwise, what's the point of living), but here's my letter so far.

To whoever is interested:

I don’t claim to be an expert on anything, not even myself. But here are some lessons I’ve learned (in no particular order) as I traversed my time on Earth:

Honor and learn from your past, but don’t be controlled by it. If you made a mistake, welcome to the human experience. Only boring people don’t make mistakes. Embrace your mistakes but learn from them and keep moving forward being the best person you can every day.

Be kind. I wasn’t always kind. I was more interested in being right and keeping myself safe emotionally. It wasn’t always pretty but as I aged I realized that my kindness was not a weakness but a gift to others and myself.

Love science. You can be spiritual at the same time as you can be scientific. Facts are important and, though you may lead with your heart, you should always check in with the facts in your head first.

Put real facts in your head, not talking points from people who have selfish agendas. Do your own fact-finding and make an opinion as objective as you can.

You will meet people who will use you. You might not recognize it at first and feel the fool for being duped. That’s okay. It was more important that you gave someone the benefit of the doubt. Better to be mad at yourself for being misled than it is to go through life always expecting to be used as a pawn. 

Treasure friendship. It is one of life’s most beautiful gifts. Be vulnerable and let people see the real you. That is the only way to obtain any kind of intimacy in relationships. Anything else is built on fakery.

Make a difference in the lives of others. This includes both family and friends and strangers. People may never recognize or acknowledge your contribution because you did it so gracefully that they didn’t even realize it was you who improved their lives. And that’s okay.

Stretch yourself. No one ever did great things by staying in their comfort zone. Life is an adventure. Live it. I always picture myself in a wheelchair in a nursing home at the end of my life if I was faced with a challenge. Do I want to be spending my final years in regret about what I could have done had I not been afraid? What a horrible way to end a life.

Believe in yourself. Don’t let others define you. Those people get as much coffee for their three bucks at Starbucks as you do. 

Love without measure. Always tell people you love them whenever you see them. You just never know when it will be the last time.

Forgive those who did the best they could with what they had. Even if they broke your heart sometimes.

Be honest without being cruel. It’s a fine line when you’re mad at someone but learning to communicate respectfully in the midst of intense emotion is probably the greatest skill you can learn in life.

Don’t get old in spirit. Always listen to new music and engage with young people. Too many old folks think the young have nothing to teach them. We were all young once with our own lessons to share. Never disrespect that. In fact, embrace it.

See people through their hearts and their actions. You will never agree 100% with anyone. But if you can find common ground and connect there, you’ll be amazed how many wonderful friends you can make. And they will challenge your way of thinking which is always a gift to me. I have had my mind changed but only if approached with love and respect.

Read. No one ever had an intelligent, meaningful existence without reading with passion.

Trust your gut. You know when something isn’t right. Speak up when you’re with people who aren’t saying kind things. You will be judged by the company you keep and the silence that you kept. You won’t convince them to change their minds, but you must always lead with moral integrity.

People are people are people. We are more the same than we are different. Don’t look for differences, look for similarities. It will make you a more empathetic person.

Sing. Even if you can’t carry a tune. There is nothing more joyful than singing.

Put your hands to work. Go dig in the dirt and plant some flowers; paint a room; learn to do hand-crafts like knitting or quilting. You aren’t fully human if you live entirely in your own head.

Lead with curiosity and wonder. 

Don’t be afraid of death or growing older. It’s all part of life. There are always new things to be learned and joy to be had in every phase of your existence.

The Heart of the Matter

I've been sentimental-crying a lot since I turned 60 earlier this year. I'm not a crier by nature. I used to be when I was young and easily hurt. But I've had to toughen up to get through life's challenges and occasional loneliness, and crying became an anomaly for me.

Recently a friend told me I was an empath. I have heard the term for a few years but because I don't suffer fools gladly, I figured that didn't apply to me. I reread the definition recently and was surprised to be guilty as charged. 

My dad always told me that I was "too sensitive". I never agreed. I felt that I was just a kind person and that everyone who hurt me was too INsenstive. But as I did more work in therapy, I found that I could be both sensitive and strong. What a gift that was for me.

But it didn't fix all heartaches. I've had to keep working on that.

Recently I've been in contact with some old college friends who I haven't seen in close to 40 years. Thanks to social media, your past becomes your present in the time it takes to respond to a friend request on Facebook.

Besides being "too sensitive" as a youth I was also incredibly shy and had almost no self esteem. People who know me now as an outgoing, confident extrovert never believe me. But life in my teens and early twenties was very difficult for me. 

I went to college and met a large group of friends who loved me regardless of (or maybe because of) my emotional and social awkwardness. They saved me. They also raised me to a large extent. 

Looking at old college pictures (I always had my little Instamatic camera with me at parties) and sharing stories with some long-lost college pals in the past few weeks has been a huge gift for me.

When I've looked back at those years, they have mostly been filled with wonder. We were an outrageous gang of crazies. We partied like no others I knew, danced constantly to our favorite bands either at clubs or in our friend's apartment. I think if we hadn't had his apartment to go to, we would not have hung out as much together. We could be ourselves there and yearned for weekend nights just so we could all be together again.

If you're looking for a comparison, our group was like a combination of the characters from Friends and the "brat pack" of the 1980s with a touch of Animal House thrown in (hey, it was the late 1970s). 

We dated each other, broke up, and dated others in the group. There was rarely any jealousy. We were so tight that not much could ever tear us apart. Several of the couples ended up marrying and are still married today.

I've found out through new conversations with these long-lost pals that there was more going on than I was aware of. The guys in the group had a pact to protect the girls in the group - especially the innocent and sensitive ones like me. No one was allowed to make a move on us unless the guys in the pact thought the suitor passed the test. This was so touching to me and explained how I was able to stay safe through some pretty wild times. That was because the guys were always diligent.

This revelation brought me to tears. How sweet. How kind. 

It also made me realize that this crazy gang wasn't just about fun. I tend to over-romanticize events that are extremely important to me. So after almost 40 years, I thought that maybe this was another example and that everyone else in the group couldn't possibly have felt that our connection to each other was as magical as it was to me. I was wrong.

But, like I said, that time was not only special but also difficult for me. I fell deeply in love with someone during that time who, by simply living his own life and following his own destiny, broke my inexperienced heart. I had to walk away or I would never have been able to move on. This is when I stopped being a crier. 

I pushed through intense loneliness as my friends all got married and had kids. I went to their weddings and baby showers and smiled for them. On my own, I lived with constant heartache.

Meeting my husband at the age of 26 changed all that loneliness. Finally I had met someone who truly cared about me. Who would love me despite all of my failings and I would do the same for him. We have been happily married for 31 years.

While reconnecting with the old gang recently I started to remember the old heartache and unexpectedly feel it in a way that I hadn't in a long time. It was a hurt that never healed because it was too painful to revisit.

But now that all the stories and backstories are being told, I'm seeing my empath leanings in real time.

There isn't much in my life that I can't work through. And music and literature always help me. 

As I got in my car to drive to work this morning, I reached for an old CD. There was a song on it that was just what I needed to help me feel it all while singing through sentimental tears. I've played this song many times in my life. While going through therapy, having difficult conversations with my father, and peeling off bandaids that hide emotional wounds that refuse to heal. 

Forgiveness is the theme of the song but it wasn't until today that I felt that the forgiveness I needed was not something I need to give to others but to myself. 

And I need to re-grow a part of my heart that I cut off because it was too shattered for even me to live with. While listening to the song I realized it is finally time to get down to the heart of the matter. But I'm thinking about Forgiveness.

Don Henley's The Heart of the Matter (video link below)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMZDswCUcOY