The Club I Never Wanted to be a Part of

The annual Vermont Brain Injury Association Conference was this week. What was once a conference I was absolutely terrified to attend (because it was a club I fiercely resisted calling myself a member of) has now become something of a very sweet family gathering for me. This conference is vastly different from any other professional conference I have attended, largely because of the deep humility of the people there. 

There are no large egos walking around, trying to impress each other with their fine clothes, their astounding ideas, or their gotta-have magic solution for sale. No one is pushing an agenda, no one if offering a miracle cure for sale... we all know there isn’t one....and everyone is there simply to simply support and be supported, to offer kindness and helpful tips. This conference is full or ordinary people whose lives have been profoundly shattered by loss, and who are left with humility, compassion and kindness. It is a place where everyone is accepted for who they are, and no one is expected to be perfect.  

There are survivors, family members, professionals, and caregivers. Many people in various states of ability and disability, where it is ok to be flawed and human. Everyone is accepted for who they are, and no one is expected to be perfect. Can you imagine if the rest of the world were like that? Totally and completely free to be oneself without the pretense of perfection. It is free from superficiality and competitiveness, and is truly a profound experience I have rarely experienced elsewhere. A unique sanctuary of total acceptance of self and other.

How did all these people get like this? There was a very large cost. It was best communicated by the keynote speaker, PJ Long, TBI survivor and author of “Gifts from the Broken Jar”. In one of her workshops, she had us do an exercise. We essentially listed the eight things that we most identified with, 
that defined who we are, and that gave us a sense of self. If you want a profound experience, go ahead and list yours now.....

Mine looked like this (pre-TBI):

1. Being a good mother
2. My friends
3. My work helping others
4. My commitment to be of service to the world
5. Being with the love of my life
6. Being optimistic and happy regardless of the situation
7. Outdoor activity: hiking, kayaking, camping
8. Yoga & Dancing for joy

The next step is to take one of those things off, and imagine your life without it. Go ahead and try it. Then take another, and another, and another..... until they all all gone. Imagine your life now. That is the experience of TBI. Only you don't get to choose. You are left a stranger to yourself, with untold losses that defy anyone's understanding, even your own. As I looked at my list, I saw, that yes, one by one, all those things have been stripped from my life.

What is left? A profound relationship with Self. I am unsure of who that self is now or how it fits into the world, but I sense it is Strong, and it is Beautiful, and it too will find its way into a new life.

APPRECIATING THE CONTRAST

Spending much of last month in my house with my eyes closed (in order to rest my brain from the overwhelming task of visual processing and the pain of light sensitivity) has opened my eyes to a new world. Honestly, I have spent much of the last two years in my house in the dark, but last month was extreme in the way that the first four months were. What happens when we go that far into the depths of our inner stillness and darkness?  A lot, but that is not as interesting as what happens when we come out.

Coming out from the literal darkness, I am filled with awe and wonder. How can I describe the incredible beauty of the natural world we live in and are a part of? Such beauty pierces the heart wide open when we truly see it as if for the first time without the jaded lenses of our past. My eyes well with sweet tears at the sights and colors, the immense beauty and perfection of it all. I gaze in wonder at the many colors of the lichen on a fencepost for a long time, and marvel at all the mossy shades of greens and reds and browns until tears of joy pour down my cheeks. I sit and see the light shine through blades of grass or the joyous flight pattern of birds soaring overhead, and my heart is bursting with awe and wonder.

Time and time again, I return from my brain’s scary episodes of complete meltdown and non-function, and it is the beauty of the senses that brings me back. The experience is one of being locked outside of my own body, and not knowing how to get back in. Each time, it is a soft touch on a single inch my own skin, the perfect vibrational note of a single pluck of a guitar string, or the healing green color of a single leaf that return me back to my body and to a place of calm. To see the world with the innocence of a child is a beautiful thing. Experiencing this exquisite dance of sensation requires  s  l  o  w  i  n  g   d o w n. Way down. I sit in the amazing magic of colors and shapes and textures in a flower, and what seems even more amazing is that the rest of humanity is missing it.

Without a month in the dark, would I be moved to tears by the beauty of a butterfly landing? I think not. It is the magic of contrast that makes us appreciate and be grateful. We can bemoan the darkness, yet without it, would the light ever shine so brightly? The sun was not appreciated all summer as much as it was this morning when it was such a treat after a gray rainy weekend. As much as we would rather skip the dark moments of our lives, perhaps we can learn to be grateful for them, as they make the light so much brighter. They are two sides of a coin that make up the whole. It is all part of one whole amazing adventure in this miraculous vehicle we call body and this equisitely beautiful planet we call home. Let's take care of both this precious body and this precious planet.

             -William Blake

My Friend Rita's Poem

Recovering from a Brain Injury

I am exhausted but...

I can not sleep

My thoughts are here but...

I can not think clearly

My words are many but...

I can not speak

I can not see what you see but...

I am not blind

I can hear everything but...

I have to cover my ears

I get hungry but...

nothing tastes the same

I can stand still but...

I can not stop my world from spinning

I feel so all alone but...

I am surrounded by LOVE

By my friend, Rita Chouinard, date of accident 4/3/11