We had a wonderful and meaningful time at Codependence Camp the weekend of April 1 - 3, 2022 at Vine Cottage on the grounds of the Inn at Forest Oaks in Natural Bridge, VA. This was our 29th Camp, and the learnings, comfort, and flow of Camp offered healing and growth.

Our focus was on "Self-Attunement" - developing our abilities to tune into self, to cultivate self as a reliable, safe haven. Our time in workshops was spent understanding this important aspect of recovery and then working in various ways to develop our internal resources to support Self-Attunement.

We plan to continue this internal resource development at our Fall Camp scheduled at Vine Cottage from Friday, September 23, 2022 - Sunday, September 25, 2022. Consider joining us. 

You can come enjoy the screened porch:

Workshop in the living room:

Delight in delicious meals:

Stroll the grounds:

Learn from Nancy's Flip Chart:

Work on your Self-Recovery:

You are invited.

 

Those of you who have worked with me know that I am visual. I like to draw diagrams and illustrate things I am teaching.  I still use a flip chart in my workshops and retreats. If you look inside of the 2^nd edition of Disentangle: When You’ve Lost Your Self in Someone Else, you will see what has been described as “a visually appealing book.” It has my lists, illustrations, and diagrams interspersed throughout. They are there to help teach.

So it will be with this blogs series on “Living Closely – Indefinitely.” As I said in my previous blog about my COVID garden, that sweet kitchen garden has been productive as have some of my thoughts on how we do this living closely indefinitely. I have four suggestions: Celebrate Together, Honor Separate, Expect Less, and Respect Different.  As we look at each of these ideas, I will be using photos and metaphors from my COVID garden to explain how these ideas may be helpful to us.

Celebrate Together suggests that since we are in this situation of increased time together and more shared everything, we choose to appreciate this as an opportunity. Yes, I know we can have too much of a good thing, nevertheless, I suggest we choose to see this as a time to really see, listen to, and understand each other more fully. It is a time to enjoy meals together and various safe forms of entertainment. It is an opportunity to cultivate patience and calm within as we are with others. It is a time to practice compromising and limit setting.  It is a time to practice the Serenity Prayer – sorting what we can and cannot control and letting go of what we cannot control.

It is not likely to be a good time to discuss major issues with each other or make decisions about whether to leave an important relationship – unless we are in danger. In the same way that in early recovery, we are advised to not make any significant changes in our lives for the first year, so it is with learning to live with this pandemic. We are adjusting to many changes in our lives at this time, and Celebrate Together - learning to be with who we are and who we are with - can help bring needed stability and growth.

I know I have been glad to have more time at home with my husband. Our time together in this life is limited.  I was becoming more aware of that as I ran in and out of the house to work and activities, always on the go with a calendar full of things to do away from the house and away each other. This pandemic has me at home almost all of the time with him.  I am plenty busy still, and I am glad we are here together – not glad every moment – but most of the time. I am trying to Celebrate Together in the ways I write of above and consider this time together a blessing.

The photo above is from my garden. The cherry tomatoes are clustered together on the vine. Side-by-side they grow, sharing the nutrients of their vine. If that vine breaks, none of them can grow further and over time they will each rot. Day-in-and-out these little tomatoes hang out together allowing space for the growth of each other and sharing the benefits of the soil and sun on their  precious spot on this Earth.

             

By March 16^th, 2020, I retreated to my home with my husband as we entered quarantine-for-all here in the US. We bought our groceries, I got what I needed from my counseling office, and we came home to stay for a good while. I cleared a space in our daughter’s former room to make my home office, and I began my new career in teletherapy.

I also settled deeply into gardening. Now don’t think big; think sweet kitchen garden with 4-6 tomato, pepper, squash, and broccoli plants mixed with basil, zinnias, and marigolds.  Just the previous fall, we had some trees taken down that were threatening our house; they also had become so large that they shaded what had been our backyard garden many years ago. So as March and April presented themselves, I took to preparing these raised garden beds for their new life. My time hoeing the soil, learning more about fertilizing and mulching, and planting these beautiful green seedlings was centering and soothing.

Now in mid-September, my garden is full of restored sweetness. My plants grew well, producing color and vegetables. And I am repeatedly amazed at how the desolation of taking down the trees last fall – a very upsetting day for me – has turned into this beautiful little garden that calls to me each day to come out and enjoy!

Covid Gardens. Many of us have Covid Gardens. People who sell garden supplies and plants have told us how popular gardening has been during this pandemic - and for very good reasons.  In my story, my garden has been a great revival project. I never expected to ever again have enough sun in my yard to grow things. I was clearly wrong. The distress of the tree removal and the tremendous piles of dying brush that lay in our backyard, has – through our efforts – become a welcoming spot on this Earth.

And as my garden has grown, so have I. During this planting and growing season, I have also been busy with the release of the 2^nd edition of Disentangle: When You’ve Lost Your Self in Someone Else.  Offering radio interviews and on-line articles, I have often been asked to discuss how the tools in Disentangle can be applied to these pandemic times – which they easily can. Entanglements are often about trying to control what we cannot control. These pandemic times offer us daily opportunities to sort in this way: what I can and what I cannot control.

“Living Closely - Indefinitely” has become both an assignment and essay for me. In the same way that I have been tending to my garden, I have also been tending to our simple life here together and learning what helps in these restricted times. As of today, I have four suggestions for “Living Closely - Indefinitely”:

                            

                                                Celebrate Together

                                                Honor Separate

                                                Expect Less

                                                Respect Different

I hope you will join me over the next several weeks as I offer a blog on each of these ideas for “Living Closely – Indefinitely.” My Covid Garden has taught me many practical and spiritual things. Living closely has, too.

Now, out I go to those bright pink zinnias and green peppers shining in the sun waiting to be picked.

In performance: Colin Roberson

In performance: Chris Knowlton and Judd Morrissey

In performance: Justin Deschamps

Photos by Grace DuVal: graceduval.com

 Saturday, April 7, 2018

"ATOM-r is a provisional collective exploring forensics, anatomy, and 21st century embodiment through performance, language, and emerging technologies. The work is interdisciplinary and evolves through large-scale projects . . . across a range of platforms . . ." Thus read the program notes for ATOM-r's performance of Kjell Theory at Chisenhale Dance Space in London.

The performance was spell-binding with color, movement, sounds - both human and digital, images, lighting, and detailed use of simple materials to impart stories and meaning. It's effect on me was not so much a story line which I followed but rather it stirred various feelings and reactions within me which invited thought and some of my own interpretation of what was presented to me. So when I was speaking with others after the performance, I heard myself describe it as "a visual and emotional spectacle."

I was struck by this phrase: visual and emotional spectacle. It offered comment on what I had experienced through the show. I believe it also offers comment on the ways we may be living our lives.

We have heard the expression: Don't make a spectacle of your self. This can go a couple of ways. If we are in a restaurant and get upset and turn our table over and leave without paying, that certainly is making a spectacle of our self in a negative way. It draws the attention of others and may well invoke feelings of fear or anger or disturbance from others who experience what we did. A chaotic expression of emotion and behaviors is a problem for both others and for self. It can result in deep feelings of shame, regret, and guilt and damage our self.

On the other hand, a centered, well-considered presentation of what we believe and want and feel can be very effective. A visual and emotional spectacle that comes from "long durations of research and practice" (program notes for ATOM-r) can capture the attention of others and invite healthy conversations and new understandings. And so it can be with self. If we stop and think what it is that we truly mean and wish to say and consider the ways we want to convey those things - perhaps with some under-control drama and illustrations - our audience of even one person is much more likely to be ready to hear us and to engage in healthy dialogues.

Next:"Nothing has a place."

ATOM-r Director Mark Jeffery consults with Lighting Technician Simon Bedwell

ATOM-r Collective before their performance of Kjell Theory
Photos by Grace DuVal: graceduval.com

Monday, March 12, 2018

As I hung out at the Chisenhale Dance Space in London while ATOM-r readied for their performance of Kjell Theory on January 12th, I settled into familiar sights, activities, and conversations. Being at a rehearsal or back stage before a performance is such a delight to me. It is its own little universe with things being said and done to create the magic the audience will soon experience. There's always lots going on behind the scenes.

I was reminded of this in one very particular moment prior to the show when the director was confronted with an unforeseen problem. Calm and assertive, clear and patient, he navigated the disturbance in a most effective way - not upsetting the cast just minutes before the show but doing what was necessary to keep things moving smoothly. I admired the way he handled the situation and found myself remarking to Grace, "Oh what goes on behind the scenes!"

Yes, things are always going on behind the scenes, whether that is at a performance or in our own life. Years ago I remember explaining to a friend why people come to see me for counseling. I said that fortunately for all of us, most of the world is able to operate in civilized, considerate ways in daily life. We are able to get up, put on clothes, and go out into the world to do what we do. We converse with people, enjoy their company, and raise children who are able to grow up and do the same.

But just below the surface of these functional, civilized ways are often disturbances of some sort: unhappiness, anxiety, heart break, discouragement, addiction, abuse, relationship problems. Most of us have these things at some time. Behind the scenes of our everyday life are issues that invite our attention in order to make our lives better.

Approaching these behind-the-scene issues with honesty and willingness to deal with them is a good idea. And then, using Mark Jeffery's calmness and assertiveness, clarity and patience, we can make ready for a healthier engagement with life.

Next: Visual and emotional spectacle

Prior to flying out of Dulles in Washington, DC

Friday, February 16, 2018

I am not a great flyer. In fact, I can be quite anxious about flying. I don't fly often, but I have learned various ways to manage/not join my anxiety when in an airplane at 30,000+ feet. Sudoku puzzles help me a great deal, and I had one close-at-hand as we settled into our seats for my first trans-Atlantic flight.

With all of the data in front of me about our soon-to-be-flight, something in me shifted from anxiety to joining this great adventure. Recently I have been realizing that the work I have been doing on my own behalf all these years may in fact really have changed my neural pathways, just as neuroscience is telling us. More on that at another time. The point here is that I was not anxious. I was present and ready to be where I was: on an airplane in flight.

Our flight was through the night. So after they served us our late meal, the plane lights were dimmed and we were "put to bed" to have our "airplane sleep," as someone described it to me. I rested in 30-45 minute blocks of time, waking to rearrange myself, drink a little water, and drowse back off.

Sometime late in the night, in some time zone well east of the US and miles above the north Atlantic Ocean, I woke. The plane was silent with its sleepers and device-watchers here-and-there. As I looked out of the window by my seat, I saw a sliver of a moon hanging in a familiar way in the distant sky. I smiled at what a lovely jewel I was seeing. I felt closer to the moon than ever and simultaneously further than ever from all that I know.

Here was this constant object - the moon - holding me in place while I was being catapulted through the sky to a foreign country.

We all share the moon. We all know the moon and its phases. The moon that we see in the US is the same as the one in the UK. We are all on one world. We may have different languages, traditions, governments, but we are connected by the natural world and its wonders.

I appreciated that waning crescent moon that night. I appreciated the way it connected me to the familiar in the midst of the strange. And I appreciated that my mindful presence allowed me to take all of this in.

Today as I write this blog, I Googled what was the moon's stage that night, and here is what it says:

Friday, January 12, 2018
Waning Crescent
Illumination: 18%

On this day the Moon was in a Waning Crescent phase. In this phase the Moon’s illumination is growing smaller each day until the New Moon. During this phase the Moon is getting closer to the Sun as viewed from Earth and the night side of the Moon is facing the Earth with only a small edge of the Moon being illuminated. This phase is best viewed an hour or 2 before the sunrise and can be quite beautiful if you're willing to get up early. It can also be a great time to see the features of the Moon's surface. Along the edge where the illuminated portion meets the dark side, the craters and mountains cast long shadows making them easier to observe with a telescope or binoculars.

What stage is the moon in tonight? Will I get to see it and appreciate it?

Wherever you may be on our Earth, it is good to remember that we all share this same, precious moon and the experience of its presence.

Next: "shapeless without technique"

Sunday, February 11,  2018

As I packed to go to England, I considered taking a large book with me which I am reading in preparation for some new writing. I imagined having time to work on this new project in between things as we traveled.

Fortunately, I came to my senses and realized that was not what I wanted to do. The size of the book alone was a ridiculous item to add to my suitcase traveling through airports and customs and trains. That's what stopped me first - the size of the book.

Then, I realized I did not want to be thinking and writing about things which I carry with me from my work and life. I did not want to spend my time and present moments traveling in brand new places with mental ideas, concepts, and preoccupations which I was importing from America. I realized I wanted to let new thoughts and experiences in as fully as possible. I realized I wanted to be present to my unfolding trip and take in some new input - whatever that might be.

The input did not have to be in specific categories or related to anything I am working on or have in mind. The input was to be what came to me in any moment as I was on this journey with Grace.

Grace was aware of this Input (restorative) plan. I carried a small blank notebook with me, and sometime during most days, I made a note or two about what I was noticing. Sometimes we both commented that a particular sentence or experience we shared was Input: "Wandering through St. James Park;" "It's a good day to wear the same clothes as yesterday;" "There's a limited amount of daylight."

The subtitle of this piece of writing is (restorative). The more I am in the present moment, the fresher I can become. New experiences enrich. I want to really let them in, to seep in as I say, and to let them help me to grow in all ways.

Are you carrying around any large books that are keeping you from the input of the present moment?

In the following blogs, I will be writing a brief essay on each of the Input (restorative). I look forward to learning what I have to say about them and sharing those experiences with you.

Next: Input (restorative): "In flight; slivered moon"

Wild flowers arrive.

My healing room is complete.

All I need is here.

On June 13, 2016 I had total right hip replacement. I had been needing this surgery for a good while. The osteoarthritis in that hip had become "severe" and my physical mobility was tiny.

Now on the healing side of things, I am understanding how much my emotional mobility and health was also affected by that condition, how limited and low my emotional state was. People are telling me how good I look. In talking about that, we are determining that yes, I am more rested now, but also they are clear with me that they saw my stress and unhappiness from my pain and restricted condition.

This is such a living testimony to the importance of remembering that our total health is a product of our physical, emotional, thinking, and spiritual parts.

As my healing progressed, haiku often came to me, capturing these various aspects of my self as I went through my surgery and recovery:

I watch people walk.

Embarrassed by my envy,

I am a cripple.

I have arrived at
Planet Anesthesia.
Letting go. Take off. 

"I feel discouraged."
The nurse smiles at me and says,
"It's just 9am."

He gets me up and

to the bathroom. Benefits

of years together.

 She sleeps on my chest,

her purr radiating down
in my healing bones.

 What is it with shame?

It irrationally keeps 

us from care we need.

 Each day is so still.

Stopping completely brings it

into awareness.

Freed from the walker,

the cane and I proceed on

down the road to strength.

I just want to walk.

I want to walk to the sea

like Mr Gandhi.

 It is a balance
of trust, patience, and action:

healing essentials.

Haiku are an active current writing form for me. I am blessed with a number of them coming to me here-and-there. I have mentioned this in my blog before.

I have decided to at least once-a-week post one or two haiku for you. In the same way that Instagram gives us an complete picture of a moment in time, haiku can do the same. So this is my version of an Instagram accounting.

Each haiku I choose to post will hopefully be free-standing and not need my further comments. I am selecting them, because they convey important pieces of my recovery, important ways for me to think, feel, sense, and experience the world, important messages that create a foundation for my healthy self - ever in my consideration.

Amazon does not

sell the things that I need most:

time and space for self.

*

I like the way I

experience the world with

presence not device.

*

I am glad that I send Christmas cards. Each year, though, I dread the work that I put into those cards. I can't just sign one and mail it. I want to pick a card that I think is right for the person(s) receiving the card and add at least some sort of special note on it with an update or personal comment to them. As the holidays go on and cards are sent and others arrive here at the house, I bask in the notes, colors, and contact with people in our life. I arrange the incoming cards around the doorway between our living room and dining room, and they will stay there for months, showering us with the messages sent.

This year I had a few cards to write after Christmas Day. I decided there was no rule against that and settled myself again into the thoughts and feelings of that writing. It was a pleasure. As I was writing one of those cards, I was wishing them Blessings and started to talk about Blessings all around us. I caught myself, realizing I did not have to give them a mini-blog on my experiences with Blessings there on their Christmas card. My wishes for them were enough.

But the desire to comment on Blessings remains, and I bring it here - more appropriately - to my blog to share with you, my Christmas card to you. No, my thoughts here are not new, but I believe it is important to remind our self that Blessings are around us every day in all sorts of forms and all sorts of sizes.

It is easy to think of Blessings as those which are large and make a significant difference in life or death, in health or disease, in marriage or divorce. These are true and important Blessings. So is food on our table and warmth in our homes and the beds we sleep in. But Blessings are also in small, unexpected packages: the kindness of a stranger, sunlight coming in a window, a found object that delights, being remembered in some way, remembering someone else in some way, laughing, feeling the breeze on your face.

Two days ago - on the first day of this New Year - my husband and I were out walking Eddie, the black lab. As we were going by one of my flower beds, I couldn't believe what I was seeing in one of the flower pots there among the brown leaves: A hyacinth was blooming! It is pink and has three fully formed plants. My brain at first told me it was an artificial flower. I have no artificial flowers in the yard, but my brain did not think it was possible for it to be real. And it is. A small, beautiful Blessing as we enter the dead of winter.

The hard frosts are coming this week we are told. So I have brought the hyacinth in and have it on our kitchen table to enjoy. Every time I walk by it, I can smell it wonderful fragrance, and I marvel at this most special gift.

Codependence Camp - October, 2015

Virginia Counselors' Associations Annual Conterence - 2015

This fall has been rich in Opportunities for me, opportunities of various sorts.

Our October Codependence Camp was full of wonderful opportunities to work together on our self-growth. Studying the work of Rick Hanson, we used material in Buddha's Brain to learn more about how to cultivate our healthy self through calming and centering.

In November, I presented at the Virginia Counselors' Associations Annual  Conference. Full of opportunities for learning and networking, I also used it as an opportunity to create a new presentation working with the material in My Life as a Border Collie: "The Use of Story-Telling and Metaphor to Work with Codependent Behaviors." Metaphor and story-telling can teach us quickly and memorably, and I was delighted to share tales and lessons from that book with an informed and engaged audience. Soon my notes from that presentation will be available to you at this website under Downloads.

These have been professional and creative opportunities which I have enjoyed and been inspired by. And it is important to also note all of the Opportunities I am given daily to work my program. Just living in this world and with our self, we are moment-by-moment given opportunities to act/react in the same old ways or to do something different. We can worry and fret or we can be in the present moment. We can complain about someone taking advantage of us or we can set boundaries with them. We can keep hoping things will be different or we can choose to see what is.

As we move into the holidays with more pressures on us to get things done and more contact with family and friends, these Opportunities will surely be there for us to respond to. If I can enter this season with healthy self awareness, moment-by-moment, and with my intentions to respond not react, I believe that when the Opportunities present themselves, I will have a good chance of acting and living out of my healthy self.

And if I do not like how I handled a particular Opportunity, I know that the next one is not far behind and will once again give me the chance to work my program toward increase health and peace.

My time in Williamsburg at the Virginia Summer Institute for Addiction Studies was wonderful: excellent sessions in which I learned a great deal and inspiring colleagues and conversations. A special thank-you to all who attended my session and participated in the inauguration of Your Healthy Self, my new electronic board book available here at my website under Downloads.

Whether I am working with my clients, teaching others, or working with my self, I am over-and-over brought back to the basic importance of mindfulness in my life. More and more I understand that the work I am doing is about this development of a healthy self, and without the awareness and ability to quiet my self and come to the present moment, I am not able to connect with my self in the ways that help my growth.

Haiku continue to come to me these days. They are such a magical delight - their presence in my life - and they often express succinctly my experiences. Here are several I choose to share with you now.

Always moving on

with so much goodness waiting

to be noticed now.

Life gives me the chance

to catch up with my sweet self

and still I push on.

Summer's orchestra
is all coming together
with rich sights and sounds

Each of us have a present moment right now.

I have a moment.

Here and now invites me to 

notice and attend.