Self Awareness

Ready to Love Again

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

I have loved. I have been loved.

I have been hurt. I have hurt others.

I have married. I have divorced.

I have cried over another. I know another cried over me.

I have been happy. I have been unhappy.

I have been alone and lonely. I have been lonely with someone.

I have made mistakes. I have done the right thing.

I have felt joy. I have felt sadness.

I have closed my heart. I have opened my heart.

I want to love again.

Ultimately experience is the only first hand truth possible.  On no subject is that more true than on the subject of love between a man and a woman.  Maybe those who grow up in a “normal” (whatever that is) household and family are presented with good examples of what love between a man and woman is.  Maybe they know how to embrace love and keep it healthy from the environment they grew up in.  That is not the example I had.

Through trial and error, making many mistakes, hurting women and being hurt by them have I learned what I know today.  Each painful experience had good parts to learn from and bad times that often taught me even more.  Love is not fragile within itself, but ill-matched or un-nurtured it becomes weak and easily breakable.

I wrote in a previous post titled “Well Wishes From Youth” https://goodmorninggratitude.com/2011/05/17/wishes-from-youth/  “…People do disappoint each other, love does not always grow and sometimes growth means growing apart.  Such happenings do not have to paint what unfolded as “bad”.  Rather I prefer to think of such occurrences as “Good” that just turn out different than expected…”

What is just below was written by a man who identified himself only as “Steven” when he posted it on justrealm.com on September 21, 2010.  He describes much of my experiences and ends with how I hope to again feel again one day.

Sometimes it takes adverse conditions

For people to reach out to one another.

Sometimes it takes bad luck

For people to understand their goals better.

Sometimes it takes being hurt

For people to be more sensitive to feelings.

Sometimes it takes doubt

For people to trust one another.

Sometimes it takes seclusion

For people to find out who they really are.

Sometimes it takes disillusionment

For people to become informed.

Sometimes it takes feeling nothing

For people to feel everything.

Sometimes it takes our emotions and our feelings to be completely penetrated

For people to open up to love.

I have gone through many of these things

And I now know that

Not only am I ready to

Love you

But I do.

I am grateful to have felt love and to have been loved.  There is within not only gratitude for the joy but also the pain which has often been the superior teacher. I am thankful for the education that experience has taught me in matters of the heart. Now, I am ready to love again.

               Hate leaves ugly scars, love leaves beautiful ones.                 Mignon McLaughlin

Digesting Never’s

/ James Browning

The profession I am in is one I often say picked me and I did not pick it.  In my teens there was no other thought besides being a scientist (except wishing I could sign up somewhere to be James Bond).  Having entered and won several of science fairs and breezing through chemistry, physics I & II and even calculus I thought for sure my future was in the sciences.  Then purely by chance through a high school friend I ended up with a part time job in the profession I am still in decades later.

With parents who divorced when I was seven, I promised myself when my age was still single digits that I would get married only one time, period!  That was one of the agreements with my self that kept me in a first marriage a decade longer than I should have been.  Then I married a second time which ended in divorce which when younger I could not have imagined.

In my late teens and early 20’s I did what a good percentage of my male peers did:  I grew my hair long.  At one point my mane was 2/3’s of the way down my back.  In the days when I thought of all in my age group as either “straight” (meaning square, un-cool, not-hip, straight laced) or a “freak” (long hair, liberal, cool, groovy) I swore I would never cut my hair.  By 25 my hair was a business acceptable length.

Being an idealist is one of the reasons I left the Deep South.  There was a restaurant in Jackson,MS next door to where I worked when I was 18.  The owners did not like us long-haired folks and refused to serve us.   Once they knew your voice, they would even hang up on you if you called for a take out order.  That treatment was one of the primary reasons I left Mississippi for Colorado when I was 19 swearing I would never live “south” again.  Now for over a decade I have lived in Oklahoma which definitely has a “southern” flavor even it if it more thought of as being west.  What I know now is discrimination is everywhere.  It is more overt in some places and covert in others.  But it is everywhere.

In my “hippie freak” years I made the commitment to my self to never join the corporate world.  I believed a person should be accepted openly no matter what they wore or how they looked.  I still believe that today but also accept the reality that in business judgment of competence is made to a point by the clothing one wears to work.  I made the compromise in my late 20’s when I realized the jobs I wanted were not held by people who dressed and looked like me.  That was the year that for Christmas I wished for and got blazers, ties, and dress shirts and pants.

Once upon a time I dreamed of having several children, but today am grateful for the one son I do have.  In another time I thought I would be living happily ever after in a foreign country but that seems like a pipe dream today.  I promised myself I’d get in and stay in killer physical shape at some point in my life and got there around 40, but within a year it slipped away. 

Promises, promises…..

Making promises to my self was a good and necessary thing.  And I know breaking them should not be taken lightly.  On the other hand, few things work out the way they were planned, especially from the vantage point of youth.  In my teens and even 20’s I saw the world in a very narrow way based largely on opinion and little on experience.  I had to learn as John Lennon wrote in his song Beautiful Boy:  “… life’s what happens while you’re busy making other plans”.

Today I am grateful for all the promises I made my self and all the lessons experience taught me.  The ones I have kept taught me values and ideals.  It seems the more ingrained the self-guarantee was that was broken, the greater the knowledge gained was.  Being adaptable and living in the present is something I had to learn to do.  Saying “never” has become a more rare personal expression for I have eaten far too many of them.  Yet, swallowing those erroneous “never’s” were some of the greatest teachers of my life.  I will always be grateful for the lessons learned the hard way.

The promise given was a necessity of the past:  the word broken is a necessity of the present.  Niccolo Machiavelli

A Recovering Night Owl

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

There is not a long history of me being a morning person.  The majority of my adult life I characterized myself as more of a night owl who was usually up until 11pm if not midnight (weekends much later).  My wake up time barely allowed me a stretch long enough to get up and get out of the house and to work each day.  I was notoriously late!!  There was a frantic beginning to every one of those days.  It was my strong belief then that those who called themselves a “morning person” were some sort of genetic mutant.  If that is what it takes, now I am very grateful for the personal mutation that allowed the discovery of mornings! 

 In place of jumping out of bed and immediately trotting through the maze of make coffee, shower, dress, eat and drive like a maniac to work; now my mornings have a calmer and less abrupt beginning.  A couple of years ago it hit me that I gave the best hours of my day to the outside world.  I kept for myself the hours at the end of the day when I was the most tired and fatigued.  I was giving away “me” at my most rested and mentally sharp and keeping the leftovers for myself at the end of the day.

In earlier days I really needed to be at work between 8:30 and 9am, but that often stretched to 9:15am or later.  Being the senior person in my jobs for over 20 years there was no one to tell me I was “late”.  I worked hard, but often ended up laboring a bit later than those who got their day rolling earlier than I did.  Over a period of about two years I slowly adapted my rising time in the morning by 15 minute increments until my previous rising time of 7:30 or 7:45am became 6 or 6:15am.  Most recently I am adapting to the alarm going off at 5:45am.

 Am I crazy?  Probably a little, but I find I feel quite different at the start of each day.  The luxury of time in the morning is one of the factors in being able to come here and write each day.  I also read, check email, get up to date with news on-line, read whatever book has my interest at the moment and stay in better touch with those I care about. Previously at the end of the day after dealing with work emails all day long, one of the last things I wanted to do was come home and write more.  Now at the start of the day my mind is fresh when I actually have the time and inclination to write emails that consist of more than “hope you’re good.  Have a nice day.” 

 I know now that I never really was a night owl.  Rather I was just in the habit of being one.  It was challenging to adapt my sleeping habits to get up earlier.  Over time though it became my new habit and I can now say I am a morning person!  If happiness is living in the moment, I was missing a good bit of the joy of living.  My thinking in the later rising and hectic day beginning starts was thoughts like:  Got to run.  I’m late.  Am I going to be on time?  Slow drivers, get out of my way.  I did not eat this morning.  I don’t have time to stop for gas; hope I don’t run out.  And so on….  I was often in such a hurry I’d forget things like my coat, my phone, my wallet and even putting on a belt.  I even wore non-matching shoes to work one day!  What a relief my new schedule is.  It’s a wonderful gift I have given myself.  Bedtime does come earlier now, but sleep seems to come quicker and I seem to rest better.  My counter for the jokes from friends about getting old and going to bed just after sundown (my actual bed time is 10pm) is simply to tell them they don’t know what they are missing.

Early to bed.  Early to rise.  Makes a person healthy, weatlhy and wise.  Ben Franklin

Seeing Beyond Just Looking

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

I have no certainty where exactly I got the idea.  It may have been from something I read or several things Icame across blended together.  It may have even been a spontaneous realization.  But in the last 10 years I have learned to “see beyond just looking”.  I can’t do it all the time.  Actually that is probably impossible for a human being.  If I could I suspect I’d end up over dosed in goodness like Woody Allen was with the “orb” in the movie Sleeper.  Seeing beyond looking does happen for me frequently and the more I intentionally try the more frequent the activity comes without thought or effort.

My discovery was I mostly only acknowledged what came into view.  I would mostly just walked without really noting  what was right before me.  Mine was a bad habit of hardly ever really “truly seeing” much of anything.  My mind seemed to always be racing forward thinking about where I was going, what I had to do and what issues I needed to deal with.  Or else, I was looking backwards trying to solve some past emotional riddle or find some meaning in an episode of life I wanted an explanation for.

What I began to do, inconsistently at first, was to just stop and really take in visually what I was looking at.  There was amazement the first intentional time I took 30 seconds to study a beautiful tulip, to see its unique form and texture and to take in its vibrant red color.  I was stunned to look and see so much always detail missed before.  It was during the early times of intentionally having these experiences when I noticed how beautifully blue the sky really is (which is still one of my favorites to marvel at).

How touched I became when I locked my vision on an elderly couple watching the man help the fragile woman out of the car and attending to her to get into a restaurant.  Eating at the same place as they were I watched the smiles they exchanged while eating and from a distance the conversation they were having.  I saw a couple deeply in love just moving in slow motion;  true romance at half speed.  Without looking closely I would have dismissed them mentally as “old people” and hardly noticed them at all.

I found delight in watching a toddler in a park giggling wildly while chasing a grasshopper like it was the greatest find of the year.  Truly sitting and watching birds through a window enjoy a feast of crumbled bread I put out for them on top of a big snow allowed me to notice the quirky uniqueness of each breed and what appeared to be joy in the abundance they had found.  And then there is nature!  A walk in the woods or a park became a sensory banquet.

When was the last time you sat and watched a sunset or sunrise?  When was the last time you actually “saw” a person instead of just looking at them.  How long since you gazed in a mirror and actually saw yourself instead of just acknowledging your reflection?  How long has it been since you focused on something to the point to where you found sheer delight in what you were looking at?  For me I am glad to say “no long ago”.   I am grateful to have stumbled across this activity and to have cultivated the habit.  As time passes with consistent effort I find I am able to more truly see with greater depth and frequency.  If life is a feast, then this is the seasoning for the meal.

Taken from “Seeing Past Myself” – Don Iannone

Sometimes I have trouble
Seeing past myself
Blindsided by who I think I am
…oblivious
To the vast world of possibilities…
I clean my glasses twice a day
Unfortunately it’s to see what I want to see
And not beyond that
I guess I’m no different –
Than you, or anyone else.
My self-image directs my eyes.
There’s a solution you know
It’s not as hard as we think
Open our hearts to unknown possibilities
Accept that our version of reality
Is but one of many out there.

The real voyage of discovery consists of not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.  Marcel Proust 


Sustenance From Gratitude

/ James Browning

Since beginning this blog and the morning ritual of expressing my gratitude each day, my life has changed.  And it has changed remarkably for the better.  I am stunned by the effect on my life of an activity that appears so simple and one I thought I was already fairly consistent with.  What an eye opener this new journey is.

One of my very first thoughts in the morning, usually climbing out of bed, is “what am I most grateful for today” or “what am I going to write about today”.  This thinking is not compulsive nor does it feel like an obligatory task.  Rather, I look forward to it the way birds must anticipate embracing sunshine or the earth looks forward to rain.  I grow a little each day and become healthier from this simple expression of gratitude each day.

Near the start my thinking was it would be difficult to come up with a gratitude subject to write about each day.  How wrong I was!  It seems the more thanks I express, the more I find to be thankful for.  Here on my desk is a list of over 20 items to write about in the future and my store of future subjects is getting larger by the day now.

I have been moved emotionally at my very core by this daily activity.  Like most, I have read sayings about being grateful and believed in their wisdom.  Long has the belief been within that gratitude was a key ingredient in a good life.  What I have discovered is the sizeable distance between intellectually knowing truth and emotionally knowing truth.  Through this experience my discovery is my intellect is largely really one dimensional.  My feelings add the additional dimensions of height and depth to my understanding.  And so it has become with gratitude.

Each morning it takes about 30 minutes or so to create what is found here each day.  The belief within now is each half hour affects me like I imagine a solid half hour of prayer might.  For me a prayer has never lasted more than seconds and if ever, certainly no more than a minute or two.  To essentially pray for a half hour has a profound effect.

Further, after when finishing each day within is a feeling as if completing a half hour of formal meditation in the manner I have practiced somewhat regularly for years.  In that practice I close my eyes and count my breaths up to ten.  Inhale is “one”; exhale is “two” and so on until I reach ten.  Then I start over again.  Just that little bit of activity is enough to keep my mind from bouncing around in thought the way a pinball moves around in a game machine. My conclusion is writing this blog causes me to center on one subject I am grateful for and the sharpness of that focus quiets my mind much like formal meditation.  I did not expect this and am frankly profoundly moved by it all.

I am grateful that you have come here to read what I have written.  Now with gladness I share of myself openly about my truths, feelings and thoughts.  However, the impetus behind me doing so began as a purely personal thing and has evolved into a personal need now that when exercised is as nourishing to me as food and drink.  I know now that the measure of gratitude in my life is directly related to the amount of happiness and contentment I can experience.  I GET IT! 

So this morning I am humbly grateful to the spark of an idea, the thought put in my head by the universe and the divine inspiration that I feel that caused me to begin Good Morning Gratitude a few weeks ago.  I am convinced my gratitude multiplies the good in my life and diminishes the difficulty to an extent that exceeds my ability to express it.  I could lament “why did it take so long” but choose instead to say “the best of my life is still ahead”.

Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakens.
  Carl Jung
 

Well Wishes From Youth

/ James Browning / 4 Comments

In a special edition of a book titled “The Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran, on January 25, 1975, my first wedding day, a woman dear to me wrote the following to the one I was marrying:

“…Take care of him, stay with him forever and tell him that you love him every day.  He has been a very special friend to me – a best friend.  He used to make every day a little nicer.  He’s a beautiful, warm person.  I know him well and know he loves you more than anything in his whole life.  And because he loves you – he’ll never let you down…”

Within that copy of Kahlil Gibran’s book the inscription is written in the following passages are found:

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love…. let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

When young, the fire of living burns brightly as one first experience after another of being an adult unfolds.  It is so easy to take for granted what much later becomes a prized and cherished memory.  In my remembrance there is much gratitude for knowing the woman who wrote the inscription in the book, for the words of the author and especially for the woman who married me and who I spent 20-something years of  my life with.  While we went our separate ways now over a dozen years ago, I will always be thankful for the good years we shared together and the son that came from our union.  The predictions of the well-wisher did not come true as she wrote them.  People do disappoint each other, love does not always grow and sometimes growth means growing apart.  Such happenings do not have to paint what unfolded as “bad”.   Rather I prefer to think of such occurrences as “good” that just turned out different than expected.

With sufficient time, all things change and the evolution of each of us as a person is only partially within our control.  However, my ability to value all my experiences is within my control.  That gratitude allows me to see that nothing lasts forever and teaches me to treasure experiences even more for the fleeting gifts they are.  Each piece of my past is responsible for molding me as I am today.  Just because the prophecy of “till death do us part” becomes untrue does not diminish in any way the value of what “was” for a time.

The years teach much which the days never knew.  Ralph Waldo Emerson

A Hapless Romantic

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

  

Often I hear people refer to themselves as a hopeless romantic.  That is either very sad or else they are speaking without paying attention to the meaning of the word hopeless which is defined as “having or offering no hope”.  I am certainly a romantic, but am far from hopeless.  Rather I define myself as a “hapless romantic” (hapness means “not favored by fortune”). 

A heroine of my romantic soul is Elizabeth Barrett who became the wife of Robert Browning in the mid-1800’s.  Some of the passages of her poetry and especially sections of her love letters to Robert during their semi-secret courtship are so very moving to me. Elizabeth had been sickly since her teen years.  Being stuck in her bedroom for days, even weeks,  at a time that served as a catalyst for beginning to write poetry in the first place.  When Robert came along she disbelieved his feelings for her at first.  At around 30 years of age (in those days considered an old maid) she had given up on ever being loved by a man who she in turn loved.  Once she accepted Robert’s feelings as true, the love that flowed from her in words is very beautiful.   Her health improved greatly during their near two decades together.  True love is a great tonic.

So after two failed marriage and lots of heartache, whenever I begin to think I will not love and be loved again I read her words and am inspired.  Hope returns then as does great gratitude for the words she wrote over 160 years ago.  They are so fresh and contemporary the words could have been written not long ago.

August 17, 1846

“… As for happiness – – the words which you use so tenderly are in my heart already, making me happy,… I am happy by you.  Also I may say solemnly, that the greatest proof of love I could give you is to be happy because of you – – and even you cannot judge and see how great a proof that is.  You have lifted my very soul up into the light of your soul, and I am not every likely to mistake it for the common daylight…”

 August 26, 1846 –

“….How I wish for two hearts to love you with, and two lives to give to you, and two souls to bear the weight worthily of all you have given to me.  But if one heart and one life will do… they are yours… I can not give them again…”

  August 27, 1846

“…I thought once that the capacity of happiness was destroyed in me, but you have made it over again… And while you love me so… I will take courage and hope, and believe that such a love may be enough for the happiness of us both…”

 What a beautiful heart Elizabeth Barrett had and her great talent at expressing her feelings of love has, in my opinion, never been bettered.  My thankfulness for her writing is deep.  Also there is much gratitude for her son for publishing the letters she and Robert exchanged.  Thanks Elizabeth for leaving behind the “food” that has helped to nourish and keep my hapless romantic heart alive. 

 Gratitude is the fairest blossom which springs from the soul.  Henry Ward Beecher

From Sore Muscles to Gratitude

/ James Browning

As I was getting out of bed this morning it became readily apparent that my arm, hand, back and leg muscles were sore from painting a closet yesterday.  The chore took several hours from masking it off to the cleanup afterwards.  While I am not out of shape, I did do a lot of twisting and reaching while painting the hard to get to places in the closet.  Those movements left me sore this morning from using muscles in ways I don’t normally do.

So my first though was to go “darn it, sure wish my left elbow was now hurting from tendonitis this morning”!   Then of course all the other muscles in my body that were sore chimed in:  upper leg muscles said “what about me?” shoulder muscles said “don’t forget what I did”, back muscles said “I worked hard, pay attention to me” and so on.

I got my morning cup of coffee and decided to go check out my work in the closet in my library.  Once the lights were on and I could witness my work, it seemed like some of the soreness left.  There is something about being satisfied with work I accomplish that lessens the pain involved.  I was pleased at my work, and satisfied that the trade off of getting the work done versus being sore was a fair transaction.  The work will be enjoyed long after the after effects are gone.

Today I am grateful for the closet project being done, but even more so that I have the ability to do it.  Not just the steady hand and arm to paint with, but my legs to hold me up, my back to strengthen and keep me up straight, my eyes to see what I am doing and so on.  Physically I am not young but I am very blessed to be able to do most anything I want to. 

 This morning I remembered what a friend said yesterday regarding how challenged she is with the movement of her hands.  While she very healthy and whole, surgeries have left her with her hands unable to do tasks that require small and precise movements.   When I suggested yesterday she use a razor blade for a small project, she indicated she could not do that and would probably cut herself if she tried. 

So this morning when I reflect on my closet project completed, I remember the edging around the ceiling I did and the precise movements it took.  I realize it is a blessing that I can do such things.  The more I live, the more simple things I find to be grateful for.

Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it.  William Arthur Ward

Favorite Shower of a Lifetime

/ James Browning

 

The photo doesn’t look much like a place a person would take a shower, but in September 2004 I showered with joy right there in the open where the photo shows.  At that time I was living on Grand Cayman and it was 10 days after Hurricane Ivan (a category 5 storm) that ripped the island up badly.  The apartments on the first floor where I lived were gutted by the sea surge that had the 1st floor completely underwater during the storm. 

I am grateful that our apartment was on the 2nd floor and got only a few inches of water on the floor and a broken window.  At least I had a place to call home.  Many on the island did not have a place to sleep and one who did not have a place to stay lived with me for over two months. 

It had been 10 days since the storm and water was very precious.  All we had was bottled water and filthy water left in the pool usedful only for pouring in and flushing the toilet.   There was no piped in water, no electricity and food/water was not easy to come by.  To set the stage you have to understand that I had not bathed in a week and a half since the storm and had only washed off with a rag here and there with the little water I could spare. 

On that 10th day it rained and I did two things:  1) caught as much rainwater as I had containers for to use for washing later and 2) with my swimsuit on and a bar of soap I took a shower under the downspout the arrow points to in the photo.  I have never been more happy or grateful for a shower or bath than I was that day.  NEVER!  I was joyous standing under the down spout, washing, singing and laughing like an uninhibited kid doing a happy dance.  That will always be the favorite and most memorable shower of my life.  To this day I feel the great gratitude deep within.

He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.  Epictetus

My Left Hand

/ James Browning

Hundreds of times each day I reach for something and my hand works to grasp it without a thought.  The motion and movement is automatic, but I have not taken that for granted for several years.

Around this time in April 2005 through no fault of mine the car I was driving was sandwiched between two other vehicles in an accident.   Occupants in the other vehicles left in ambulances, but I was able to be picked up by my then wife (thank you A.)  I made the obligatory visit to the emergency room within a couple of hours and was told I appeared to be fine.  There was a warning from the doc that I would be stiff and sore for a few days and was given a script for muscle relaxers just in case.  I was bummed about my car, a 1996 Volvo, I had babied since I had gotten it new almost 10 years before.  Yet, I was grateful to be ok.  The doctor was correct as I woke up the next working with an aching back and stiff from head to foot. 

The second morning I awoke and discovered quickly before I was even out of bed something was wrong.  I could barely move my left arm and hand and my hand was partially numb.  It all looked fine, but I only had the slightest ability to make any movements.  My arm just hung at my side.  I soon learned how challenging life is when you only have one working hand.   Drying off my hair off one-handed with a towel was a challenge.  Even when my arm was in a cast when I was in junior high I could still use my hand, but not in 2005!  Ever tried cutting your nails with one hand?  Even putting on underwear and clothing was tough (more than once I stumbled around trying to put pants on… funny now, but it was not humorous then).  I was scared.  In time the doctors found that in the accident I had damaged the Ulnar Nerve (the one often called the “funny bone”) and I had cracked an upper vertebra in my back.  The treatment?  Wait and see if the movement and feeling would come back.   If not back surgery would be the next step (yipes!).

Very little credit goes to traditional medicine for helping me recover.  Instead some weeks later the help I needed came from a skilled massage therapist who was well versed in eastern treatments such as acupuncture.  After the very first two session with her, I woke the next day with at least 30% use of my arm and hand.  In repeated visits over a few weeks, I improved more to where I ended up 75% use of my arm and hand and  some of the numbness in my hand went away.  That is about where I am now.

Today when I drop something because I don’t have full feeling in my left hand, I don’t get upset.  Those times when I can’t lift as much with my left arm as my right, I take in stride.  When I sit for too long in one position (airplanes, etc) and my left arm goes mostly numb, I don’t grumble.  Instead, I am grateful!  So very grateful!  I remember all too well the weeks when I had almost no use of my left hand and arm.  Words can not describe how elated I was when movement returned.  I am so thankful for “what is” that I rarely whine about abilities lost.  I will always be indebted to a talented therapistwho healed me with her caring and non-traditional methods.   Thank you Teresa.

There is no such thing as gratitude unexpressed.  If it is unexpressed, it is plain, old-fashioned ingratitude.  Robert Brault