Mental health practices in a pandemic

What have you done for your mental health lately?

Bell Canada, one of our communications providers, is marking its eleventh annual "Let's Talk" day, focusing on mental health. They post a video (that I'll share below) and donate five cents toward these mental health initiatives each time it's viewed. They'll add another five cents when we use their "Let's Talk" promotional images on social media platforms (for example, a Facebook or Instagram photo frame).

Besides supporting Bell's efforts to assist mental health, I'm giving some thought to my own mental health, and I invite you to do the same. What are you doing to lift your own spirits in these strange days of pandemic? Here's my list, some of which I manage to do daily:

- physio exercises (to repair a sore shoulder) 

- a pot of tea (to keep myself hydrated) 

- morning meditation (trying to let go, let be, be inspired to make a difference)

- Tai chi (to keep my body in shape)

- a walk with Shadow-dog (to keep him from driving us all crazy)

- some cheerful tunes or an amazing symphony (with or without dancing)

- creativity (these moodlings, or maybe some other writing)

- a word puzzle or sudoku (to keep the neurons firing)

- one piece of fair trade chocolate (antioxidants!)

- a video or phone call with people I love (beyond my home)

- a bit of effort to encourage others in some way (my life is not just about me!)

In honour of "Let's Talk" day, I phoned three friends this morning, people who, like me, are hunkered down at home, and struggling with the strangeness of these days. I realize that not everyone is able to live as physically distanced as I do, or able to give much thought and effort toward their mental health on a regular basis. 

But maybe it helps to be aware that our bodies, minds and spirits are so connected that even if we can't invest a lot of time or energy into defined mental health practices, anytime we get up and move, eat something healthy, breathe deeply, hear inspiring music, appreciate beauty, see the face of someone we love, or stroke the fur of a beloved pet, that we are contributing to our overall wellness, which adds to mental health.

And if that's not enough and you are feeling lower than you've ever felt, please, please, talk to someone. Share your struggle. We all need help now and then, and we all need to talk things out with people we trust. I do that at least once a month for my sanity's sake, and daily with my partner. Whatever works for people is what I want to support.

Here's Michael Buble in that lovely little "Let's Talk" video I mentioned earlier.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VUY-rizctHA

 

And if that didn't cheer you, here he is again, this time singing a tune that never fails to get me up and dancing, with a big smile on my face... wanna dance with me? Appreciation to Bell Canada for its "Let's Talk" initiative. Be good to yourself and everyone else today!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdRIDS6UmYU

Livestreamed Ecumenical Prayer for 2021

My prayer life during this pandemic has been different, but good. The only thing I am really missing (besides the people with whom I usually share my faith) is the almost monthly gathering of people for ecumenical meditative prayer with scripture, silence, and the songs of Taizé. But I've found a way around it, sort of.

We can't all gather together to sing and pray in these days of pandemic, but I've figured out how to broadcast prayer from my own home via Facebook. I was a bit worried about infringing on music copyrights, so I contacted the Brothers of the Taizé Community, and they don't mind if I use recordings of their music interspersed with readings and prayers during the pandemic. In fact, Brother Jean-Marc wrote, "We are glad to hear about the ecumenical prayer that you hold, and we would certainly encourage you to keep going even if you can only meet online at present."

So I have set up a schedule of nine Sunday evening prayers throughout 2021, and I invite you to join me online via the Taizé Prayer in Edmonton and Area facebook page, which you can find by clicking here. It's not like singing and praying together in one place, but it's still a good opportunity to lift the needs of our world to God. Our first prayer coincides with the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, and incorporates prayers that will be used in other local prayer services as well as prayers from the Taizé Community. 

It almost goes without saying that unity (my word of the year!) is what our world really needs right now, so feel free to invite others to join us, as united hearts are the only thing that can change our human trajectory...

That poem

 For me, the most moving moment of the Inauguration of Joe Biden and Kamala Harris was this young woman's impassioned delivery of her poem, The Hill We Climb. Well done, Amanda Gorman... words do this no justice, you've used all the right ones.

st. Father Mike, pray for us

Father Mike -- around
the time I met him.

My heart broke a little when I received a text message from my friend last Tuesday morning telling me that Father Mike had died. I had been praying for him since the previous Sunday, hoping, when I heard that he was in hospital with COVID-19, that he would pull through. But, as Father Mike said in a last video made just before he got sick, "God is always mysterious, that's what makes it exciting." I just wish God had different plans this time around...

I met Father Mike 35 years ago, when my friend Pauline died because of unexpected complications from what was supposed to be a fairly routine heart valve replacement. He was the priest at her parish at the time, and his gentle pastoral presence for Pauline's family and friends helped to ground us at a time when we could barely get our heads around the death of someone so young. She was only 21.

Because Pauline was a student at our local theological college, her funeral was held in the chapel there, and organized and presided over by some of her friends. But Father Mike and his pastoral team were the ones who held the grieving family during and after the funeral, and I remember Pauline's mom speaking very fondly of him every time I visited her in the years that followed.

Not two years after Pauline's death, her dad was killed in a search-and-rescue mission plane crash, and the family was plunged into grief a second time. Again, Father Mike and his team came to offer the family what consolation they could. Mom Plumbtree, as I called Pauline's mom, counted on Father Mike's friendship until he left the parish to become rector at St. Joseph's Basilica downtown, and beyond. She often reported on where he was and what he was doing when I visited, his friend right to the end. He presided at her funeral, too, nine years ago.

Father Mike also found the proverbial five minutes of fame when he handled the marriage of Edmonton's most famous hockey player while at the Basilica, and developed a lifelong friendship with the couple. I picked up a signed hockey jersey from Father Mike for a L'Arche fundraiser once -- he had pull with many Edmonton sports heroes.

Father Mike was the kind of man who had a heart for others, who cared enough to spend time and really listen to a person's questions and struggles. He wasn't one to stand on Catholic ceremony or traditions that excluded people. I loved the mischievous twinkle in his eye when he was pulling someone's leg, or they were pulling his. He spoke his heart, even when he disagreed with the official teachings of the church on certain issues, so although he became the Archdiocesan Chancellor for a time, his views probably disqualified him from ever becoming a bishop. He was one of the few priests I ever met who talked about his belief that women should also be priests, never mind the hierarchy's rules. He called women to leadership positions whenever he could, and if I'm not mistaken, my last real conversation with him was at the funeral of my Roman Catholic Woman Priest friend, Ruthie, about how well she carried her vocation.

I've seen him a few times since, as I often walked my dog around the residence where he was living for the last few years of his "retirement" that really wasn't a full retirement -- he kept busy filling in at parishes when priests were away. I always liked his homilies because they were short and to the point, no theological gobbledygook, just sensible, practical Christianity.

In these days of pandemic, it strikes me that we need more wise men like Father Mike, people who cut to the heart of the matter, who call people to honesty, who see the value of every person and exclude no one, who listen deeply, and who celebrate God's mystery among us. Father Mike was a good man, a good priest, and a good friend to many people. And to me, that ranks him with the folks we call saints.

st. Father Mike, pray for us. And please greet Pauline and her parents for me!

His funeral is online January 20th at 11 am at https://www.facebook.com/archedmonton.

The last word on the basement tomato experiment

Last night I dreamed about tomato plants heavy with big, red, juicy fruit, at least a dozen tomatoes per stalk, growing in pots in my very own laundry room. And then I woke up to reality...

Well, we tried. We really did. We grew a few handfuls of tomatoes in our basement this winter... and there are probably a few handfuls left ripening on the vines even now. But overall, I must admit that our "green wall" wasn't really worth the time or electricity required to grow enough tomatoes to garnish a few Christmas salads.

Lee and I had great hopes for our 18 happy little plants at the beginning. They flowered like they meant to produce enough tomatoes to get us through the winter. I pollinated them daily with my little water colour paintbrush, watered from the bottom to try to keep the fungus gnats to a dull roar, and sprayed their leaves with milk solution as often as necessary to try to handle an outbreak of powdery mildew.

But those little plants needed more. It seems they were stressed because they didn't have enough soil to really stretch out their roots, and the soil became nutrient depleted over time. Our grow lights simply weren't strong enough to make up for the lack of true sunlight, the powdery mildew kept spreading, curling and drying previously healthy leaves, and the gnats -- oh, the gnats. We complain about them daily because they've now made homes upstairs in my houseplants, too, and are always flying into our faces.

Five or six salads with lovely red and gold tomatoes and cherry tomatoes have graced our table, and though they do taste like real tomatoes -- as opposed to the cellophane tomatoes from the grocery stores this time of year -- they are nowhere near as sweet, juicy, and delicious as summer-grown tomatoes. 

I guess grow lights, tap water and oscillating fans are no substitute for the sweetness of sun, rainwater and gentle breezes provided by Mother Nature. Which also explains why the flavour of cellophane tomatoes isn't worth their price. They've grown in hothouses, not under Mother Nature's care, and probably lost food value during shipment.

I've also realized that growing tomatoes in my basement is nothing like backyard gardening -- at first, I was enthusiastic, but now I see that I really do need a winter break, a time for catching up on indoor chores, taking a break from dirty broken fingernails, and recovering my enthusiasm for a new season of growth -- outdoors!

I have reconciled myself to the idea that tomato plants are not meant to be grown in pots in basements. I'm also certain that my pioneer grandparents wouldn't have dreamed of a tomato or cucumber in the winter unless it was preserved in jars in a warm August kitchen. 

The fruits and vegetables that we North Americans choose to eat "out of season" are usually shipped huge distances from other parts of the globe this time of year using vast amounts of fossil fuels. Often, the farmers who grow our winter produce are barely paid for it, but by the time it reaches us, our so-called supermarkets get away with charging outrageous prices because we are willing to pay for Chilean Christmas tomatoes... or Venezuelan Valentine's Day strawberries. 

Our seasons -- and our freezers -- have a wisdom all their own. Summer is meant for fresh garden food and for preserving or freezing the abundance we can't eat at the time. Winter is for enjoying those preserves, for quiet evenings, and for dreaming about starting next year's garden. 

So tonight, pasta with pesto, tomato sauce, and last summer's wax beans, all from the freezer. Though I've enjoyed the few tomatoes our basement experiment has yielded, I certainly won't need to repeat it. 

Sunday Reflection: On Being Beloved

Photo by Jude Beck on Unsplash

Today's reflection is brought to you by 

Acts 10:34-38.

You love us all,
O God.

Each one of us 

is your favourite child,

and so is all of creation.

Clearly, 

my heart is not so big as yours.

I only want to love 

the people who do good things,

who care for the oppressed,

who love their neighbours and pray for their enemies,

who love their enemies and pray for their neighbours.

But we are all 

your Beloved,

neighbours and enemies alike.

You are present 

in every single one of us,

and ask us to see 

your presence 

in each other

no matter who we are 

or how we behave.

Clearly, 

my heart is not so big as yours.

Loving our enemies... 

doesn't come easily.

Thank you for loving me, 

Beloved.

Enlarge my heart to love as you love.

+Amen.

What's the good word for 2021?

Happy New Year! Those who have been following these moodlings for a while probably remember that every New Year, rather than making a bunch of New Year's Resolutions, I choose a word to focus on for the 365 days ahead. 

I have to chuckle a little when I look back at the word for 2020. One year ago, I picked the word COMMUNITY, because certain struggles and challenges in 2019 made me withdraw too much from some of the people I love, and I needed to reach out and include them more fully in my life rather than quietly indulging in my own pity party. I also wrote that

if we want to continue as a human race, we need to put our divisions behind us and become COMMUNITY when it comes to world peace, caring for our environment, eliminating poverty, working for the rights of the marginalized, and the list goes on... There are so many issues that have to be tackled by good people who care, and though we all have different pet concerns, perhaps we can agree that the common good of ALL, no matter the stripe, is what we need to work toward. Because really, our divisions are just our fears being given too much credit.

Dog walking view, January 2, 2021

I launched myself into 2020 with optimism and the desire to connect with others. I set up a full schedule for ecumenical prayer in different churches in the city, put together some lovely recipes for baking with my friends at L'Arche, and found a wonderful job with some marvelous people involving a lot of really great music (one of my passions). But after only 8 shifts at the Winspear Centre for Music, COVID shut everything down. Concerts, baking, ecumenical prayer. Everything except my daily dog-walking routine, a community of me and Shadow-dog! (Thank heavens for my husband and daughter being here, too, or I probably wouldn't be laughing at my 2020 choice for word of the year. They were a pretty great little community, most days!)

Community has also been something a lot of us find at a certain physical distance or online if we are fortunate. After the initial lockdown was eased somewhat, in person opportunities (with masks) became a possibility. I managed to join the Sunday Community of Emmanuel at the Bissell Centre, and felt like I had come home in so many ways, even though physical distancing and COVID protocols (taking temperatures, hand sanitizing, providing bagged snacks instead of lunch, masking, and wiping everything down with bleach) were in play... until November/December, when case numbers took off and doors closed again.

I suppose I could try a do over with COMMUNITY as the word of the year. But in this time where we must stay apart for the sake of our health system and the vulnerable people in our midst, I've decided that instead of physically distanced community, I want to use 2021 to focus simply on UNITY, especially after the storming of the Capitol Building in Washington DC yesterday.

In my understanding, UNITY doesn't mean that we all need to think the same, act the same, love the same, have the same skin tone, believe in God the same, or hold the same political views. Rather, it means that we are conscious that, although there are many things we disagree on, we can work together for the good of all. Unity asks us to set down our hurt and anger and outrage and try to understand others in a way that invites them to work with us toward the beauty, goodness, and truth that we are all created equal, and the reality that really, we are all one family that needs to come together, not just for our own personal good, but for the good of our earth, especially post-COVID, whenever that time comes.

So my word of 2021, my meditation mantra, is UNITY. In my morning prayer, I am asking God of many names to unite our hearts daily. And I hereby vow to unite with others who desire to make the world a better place in whatever way I can. Maybe by writing letters. Signing petitions. Telling jokes. Smiling at other dog-walkers from that physical distance. Participating in Zoom meetings. Planning for a positive future even in the midst of this strange time. Wearing my mask for the sake of the vulnerable. You get the drift.

What's your word of the year?