No, no. Not the app that lets you sell anything and everything.  I’m talking about the hard core Catholic dogma where you offer up all your suffering…only difference is no one is interested in buying it! I have to laugh remembering a conversation with my nephew’s then fiancé (now wife) last summer after my brother died. We were floating down the river on a kayak talking about how my dad and her mom offered up everything.

Then the play on words with the app…and a random moment where grief was a little lighter shared. It’s been a mixed bag in the year that has followed. Sometimes laughing and sometimes crying…together and completely alone. Learned a few things along the way, but don’t get me started on the whole “everything happens for a reason.”

This past year, experiencing grief, loss, and disappointment, I think I’ve sought refuge and comfort as much as I’ve given it. I’ve channeled the feelings of many as an empath, often bewildered and broken sifting through to find the emotions that were uniquely mine to own. As I’ve looked for ways to “self sooth” for lack of better words, I’ll offer up a few thoughts in the hopes they may help others.

Okay, the play on words is still making me smile. For nearly three years, my dad sincerely repeated this to me at any talk of his suffering and during his life in general. He’d suggest I do the same when giving advice or solace. Just a simple phrase in the form of a prayer. I think it’s just one more numbing anecdote we tell ourselves to get through things that don’t make sense. We all have some belief system or platitude or coping mechanism that helps us find order in the face of chaos. Because seriously, there is no easy out.

Let’s start with the whole reason and purpose for everything…okay I got myself started on this. I don’t necessarily subscribe to this school of thought any longer. I grew up to become a spin doctor of sorts, working in public relations and crisis management. It’s not so different if you think about it. Tell people what they need to hear. Ease the anxiety. Restore calm. Not really solving anything in the process…simply making the process less chaotic. I used to build entire toolkits of messages to restore order and avoid damage to a company or brand. So it should be no surprise that we all have our own toolbox of resources we call upon in time of need to shield and protect ourselves.

There’s a myriad of resources to pick from. Whether it be spirituality in the religious sense, in the common sense of the universe, or any other fundamental belief brought forward by those who came before us…we greedily consume it to avoid facing a greater and more difficult truth.

Loss is loss. I think we all started grieving ahead of time when my brother was diagnosed with cancer. Having lost my dad to cancer decades before, I remain uncertain as to whether or not knowing ahead of time was of any real benefit at all. Because in the literal sense, if we lived in the true zone of humanity, we’d have already acknowledged and accepted this stark reality. No one gets out alive. A joke that helps lighten the mood on a topic that is best avoided lest we all go too dark and twisty.

Getting back to that greater and more difficult truth. All the platitudes and words we use to try and comfort one another fall short at times. For me, the most impactful thing has been to simply abandon all attempts to put up a brave front and admit that sometimes despite our best efforts, we are still not okay.

What do you do when you sit with that truth? I’ve been leaning on a Tibetan saying that resonated for me, “Take care of the minutes and the years will take care of themselves.” So what does that mean? TF if I know! Kidding again! This grief stuff is so heavy. I think it means that if we don’t look too far ahead and if we stay in the moments that make up our life and keep doing what we did before, we will see that life goes on, and eventually the awful moments that threatened to destroy us will become a smaller part of the sum total of our lives as a whole.

Translated into my everyday living, I see it as gratitude for what I have and where I am…

I was really surprised by something the other day. I went back and looked at all the pictures I took this past year. For anyone who knows me, this took a while because I take pictures of everything. My pets, the sunrise, the sunset, people, places, gardening…As I was clicking through hundreds of “moments” over a period of undeniable loss and sadness, all I saw were beautiful images. There was the road trip I took my son on for his graduation (just a week after my brother’s funeral).

I remember trying to put up a brave front because I was struggling with so much at the time. The moments told a different story. From the Frank Lloyd Wright house we toured to all our stops along the way searching for antiques and treasures, we’d logged more time and memories. More moments passed over the summer as I looked through my wine making attempt. I couldn’t help but smile at the pictures where we were syphoning wine from a tube thinking if we stood higher on a stool it would work better…no fake smiles. Genuine happiness in that moment. More sunsets and sunrises. Birds and pets. Beautiful holiday moments shared with family. Where was the grief? I know for certain it is still with me and a heaviness I lay down with each night as I go to sleep and a fuzzy cotton candy-like weight I shake off each morning to start my day.

I continue to reclaim all things that make my heart sing…even if it’s only started back up with a gentle stirring and not a thunderous and deafening symphony of joy.

I think taking care of the moments is more than just living day to day. It’s finding true meaning and purpose. It’s approaching everything you do with absolute intent and taking nothing for granted. That’s what I’m doing.

Inflation is something everyone has felt this year. Prices for everything are going up. We complain about politics and external forces. It’s so easy to get caught up in the negativity. One of the things I’ve noticed in my own life and in trying to just focus on one thing at a time is that I am super thankful for what I have. When I order groceries online from Sam’s Club, I wince a little at the total. But when I start putting the groceries away and look at a well-stocked pantry and fridge, I stop and feel the deepest sense of gratitude. From having fresh ice on tap because I replaced my fridge with a new one to grabbing a bottle of the more expensive Ginger beer…I’m glad that I get to enjoy it.

I’m learning how to make stuff with new mediums like wood. I suck at math, so it’s been a challenge.

I’ve taken dozens of pictures of my barn wood shelves I made for the kitchen. And a Victorian oil lamp has been re-wired and is now hanging over my kitchen table waiting for finishing touches … wires still hanging in some of the wrong places.

The funny thing is all I see is the warm glow of light in the evening and a soothing feeling as I look in from the living room as it spreads its light across my kitchen table and chairs, also another found treasure that came complete with decades of moments and experiences from someone else’s family. Life is so freaking awesome when you can break it down into the tiniest of moments. There might not be a reason for everything, but I love being able to appreciate and find genuine meaning when I can.

Other thoughts on how to take care of minutes for me have manifested in some basic and mundane ways. I’ve never been much of a housekeeper. I could spin that a couple of ways. Nature versus nurture or a busy lifestyle. Not every one of my days start with a focus on a beautiful sunrise. And there are nights I don’t take a minute to step outside and watch the sun go down over the horizon. I started working on the basics. Dishes are a constant and never ending story having two sons (though nearly grown and grown) still at home. I started cleaning up the kitchen in the evening and leaving the overhead light by the sink and stove on. I liked being able to see the counter and sink and ground myself in a routine. I added more frequent vacuuming into the mix and with a gently used, but new to me Dyson, I like seeing the pattern in the carpet that comes from a really good cleaning (lots of pet hair around here). Having a kitchen table without clutter goes back to my high school days when I lived with my grandparents. My granny used the kitchen table as her desk and it was always stacked with papers and magazines … It made my pop nuts and I guess that rubbed off on me a little because even if the rest of the house is a wreck, I like a vase and a tablecloth, with a deck of cards tucked in the antique wood slaw cutter I use as a centerpiece. It’s those little creature comforts of what feels like home that can sometimes offer unexpected benefits without even realizing where the comfort is coming from.

I’m basic and simple. By now, anyone reading this has figured that out. I appreciate the moments when I go to bed between flannel sheets and an electric blanket. And even when I feel restless and wake up in the middle of the night, I remind myself that there will not be another moment in my day where I am this safe and secure as being tucked into my own bed.

I’m convinced that living in the zone of humanity will take me where I need to be. The ability to love, have compassion and be creative is fairly spot on. I can’t say with any certainty how long it will take to reach my destination, but in a world where there are unexpected endings, maybe that Tibetan belief is more accurate than I could have known. There is no fast forward through grief and loss. Forgiveness is better than anger even if it takes longer to pass through and process the pain. No one has all the answers. But in that zone of humanity, we’re all in this together and I find that somehow comforting.