Debra Basham

Living and Loving

Tag: Mother’s Day

  • A Novel Mother’s Day

    Mother’s Day was this next Sunday.

    While working on her Mother’s Day service for the sweet little church where she was to be guest speaker, including the “Observing Your Feminine Teacher” information from An Experiential Guidebook based on The Celestine Prophecy had her in deep process.

      You got some positive qualities from your mother:  Like my mother, I am…

      “Outgoing and hard working,” she wrote down.

      You also got some negative qualities you got from your mother: Like my mother, I am…

      “Judgmental and critical,” she noted with some pangs of guilt as memories flooded her mind..

      From your mother, you learned that in order to succeed, you should: ___________( fill in the blank). These are beliefs and values that influenced many of your decisions either positively or negatively.

      That was an easy one, ” Work hard.”

      From observing your mother’s life, what do you want to be more of? For what are you grateful to your mother? For what would you be willing to forgive your mother? From your list of what was missing from your mother’s life, what, if anything, have you chosen to develop?

      “What was missing from my mother’s life was a spiritual ease, a genuine sense that her life had been well-lived. I am willing to forgive her for teaching me to be judgmental and critical, especially of my own life,” tears filled her eyes as she wrote these words.

    She was reading What Alice Forgot, a novel by Liane Moriarty’s – a novel for god’s sake. The protagonist suffered a head injury and lost ten years of memory. The earlier version of herself loved her husband, but she woke from the injury in the middle of an ugly divorce. Asking him what went wrong, he replied:

    “I’d be at work, where people respected my opinions. And then I’d come home and it was like I was the village idiot. I’d pack the dishwasher the wrong way. I’d pick the wrong clothes for the children. I stopped offering to help. It wasn’t worth the criticism.” (p. 424 What Alice Forgot, a novel by Liane Moriarty)

    The previous day she had written in her journal, “I am willing to know if it is highest good. That will be my new seven- syllable personal mission statement: IF IT IS THE HIGHEST GOOD.”

    A novel for God’s sake. Definitely a novel Mother’s Day, and such a beautiful gift from her mother in heaven.

    “A Mother is one
    who can take the place of all others
    but whose place no one else can take.”
    ~ Wise Old Irish Words

  • Creative Mending

    I had some text exchange with my firstborn grandchild, Brad, sharing emotional reactions and perceptions of the current conditions. Some we love dearly entertain the notion that COVID-19 is a conspiracy. I shared with him a recent writing:

    Daily Doula Duty

    My book, I Learned Everything I Needed to Know About Life Working as a Doula, is not yet written, but the awareness is etched into my days nonetheless. The last trimester of pregnancy is no picnic. Sleep is illusive as pressure on the bladder likely means many trips to the bathroom. The rapidly growing fetus works hard to finds comfortable place to stretch out in the tight quarters—often right on the mom’s sciatic nerve. Back pain, leg cramps…. Perhaps all of this is preparation.

    Most women go into labor exhausted, and after that there will be long days and short nights of having an infant to care for.

    The job of the doula is to coach the woman into conserving what precious little energy she has. She is going to need it.

    No matter how long or how difficult the labor, the hardest work comes after the cervix is dilated¬—in the second stage of labor.

    The second stage of labor is when the woman really needs stamina. And stamina takes energy.

    One of my clients had to be put on oxygen to be able to push. Not only was she exhausted, she also had bronchitis.

    My sister delivered her youngest just as intestinal flu was ramping through her family of five, the normal work of laboring was clearly distorted by the accompanying vomiting and diarrhea.

    The human mind is very prone to vomiting and diarrhea….

    When all is said and done, we may be among the fortunate ones to have survived the pandemic of 2020. Suffice it to say, humanity as a whole is likely going into the second stage of labor exhausted.

    High-powered executives confessed to hoping for a scheduled cesarean delivery….

    It is important to conserve our energy. We don’t know what more is going to be demanded of us.

    Bonnie’s daughter is celebrating Mother’s Day this year having just lost her mom to COVID-19. There was no access to the hospital. No visitation or funeral. She writes: “I am going to go pack up some of her things on Sunday. I have some other ideas to share some special moments with her, too. I feel her a lot. It almost feels like she’s not gone because she is around so much. Meaning I don’t miss her physical presence (as much) because her spirit is so strong.”

    The second stage of labor can last a few moments or a few hours.

    Take heart: the second stage of labor means the cervix has already dilated.

    Your body, your mind, and your spirit can do what is being asked of it.

    Key awareness at this point: Don’t be a prisoner to what you cannot change.
    • Remember this is not your birth
    • Remember to rest when you can
    • Remember to breathe through contractions
    • Remember you are not the first or the only to go through this
    • Remember everything you have done to be ready
    • Remember getting through this is the most important thing
    • Remember you will forget the pain
    Debra Basham 05-08-2020 (WC 500)

    Brad responded, “Is this some ninja level NLPing?”

    Zan Lombardo, my friend and artist extraordinaire, was doing some creative mending during our Southern Circle Poets virtual gathering. On the shirt in the photo below, what seems to be a pendant, is actually where a moth hole was. The turquoise is a random doodled line that Zan stitched.

    Transrational Pyramid from Healing with Language (Bowman and Basham p.187):

    The observer’s perspective is both caring and disinterested, free of attachment, neither fearing nor desiring a specific outcome, but wanting only what is usually called the Highest Good for all. That doesn’t mean they have given up playing an active role in causes and activities they think are beneficial. It just means that they do so from a more peaceful and less judgmental perspective.

    Now, that is some creative mending….

  • Turtle Bax, Tupperware, and Tears

    It was Mother’s Day as I grabbed a sufficient amount of time to sit with the deeply personal, and profoundly honest Dramatic Dialogue poem of a writer/colleague/friend. This poem was her response to a recent hurtful encounter with her husband after the tip of his favorite fishing rod was broken off when she accidentally shut it in the car door in the pouring rain.

    As is so often the case, I did not yet know how relevant the words I wrote to my friend would become for me later in the day.

    My heart reaches out to both of you. For you, the value of taking responsibility for your own emotional safety, and for your husband his ability to recognize the larger value of a “person” over a “possession.”

    This has been a learning for me in this lifetime, too.

    For years I had a favorite ink pen at work. It was very unique. This pen didn’t have a round barrel like others, this one was shaped like a hexagon. The barrel was yellow, and the logo from Turtle Backs (garments) was worn nearly completely off.

    I had purchased many refill cartridges for this special pen.

    In a culture where people walked off with other people’s pens all the time, I liked this one especially because it was obviously “mine.”

    I still remember the day my special pen was lost.

    I was out to dinner on a Friday evening with my husband, his four adult brothers and their spouses and children, and my mother- and father-in-law. I know the exact location of the restaurant and the occasion for the gathering. And I remember it was my brother-in-law who borrowed my pen to sign the check.

    It wasn’t until Monday morning that I realized my pen had not been returned.

    My father- and mother-in-law are no longer in body. My brother-in-law is going through treatment for stage-four lung cancer.

    It was many years later before I would realize I held myself responsible for not thinking to get the pen before I left the restaurant.

    One of my spiritual teachers compassionately expresses the truth that all anger is essentially anger of the self.

    Some days I still miss that pen, and when that feeling comes, I let my own tender underbelly soften. Today I shed a few tears for all the other times and other circumstances where we fail to forgive ourselves sufficiently to have compassion for another.

    Just hours after this sincere reflection and sharing, the pattern showed itself in spades. My grandson popped some leftovers in the micro. I snapped, “NOT in that container,” as I grabbed it out, putting the contents into a proper bowl. I could see the emotional pain in his whole body. I apologized, but also had to make my point about other people in the family doing the same thing.

    A few stressful words with my son-in-law were the rapid-fire result of my critical comments.

    For that one moment I knew I had put possessions first. Fortunately, I also knew that is not my true value. I was instantly disappointed with my unwholesome behavior. The cost? Rather than enjoying time with people who are so precious to me, I had to give myself a time out.

    Have you noticed that as your awareness increases, old patterns often show up in your life again so you can appreciate your progress? What a powerful Mother’s Day this one has turned out to be!

    Tonight, I hold back the tears, but tears the overflowing love and gratitude for those in my life who forgive me when I am not at my best so I can forgive myself, too.

    I am profoundly thankful to have had a sweet text exchange with my son-in-law earlier this evening. We were both able to affirm our affection and appreciation for one another. I signed off with the gospel truth, “I love you guys. You mean so much more than any stinking old Tupperware!”

  • Better than an Orgasm

    We almost won money at the Trivia night at Bob’s BBQ in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. Our grandson, Brad, is the MC for the Thursday evening game. The play-off question was when Mother’s Day had become an official holiday. I guessed 1923. The other team guessed 1922. It was really 1914.

    I am not at all sure why 1923 popped into my mind, but the moment I said it, John said, “That is the year my mom was born.” Is it possible her spirit influenced my guess? I am not sure, but I do have those sorts of connections happen often.

    A few weeks ago, I met with a couple. He asked me if I thought I had some sort of gift beyond what I have been trained in. My response was, “I hope I do.”

    Every day we have opportunity to decide what we are going to believe about life.

    John and I were on our way to Tennessee late Wednesday evening. We were just north of Nashville, driving South on I-65, when we saw a line of taillights strung across all five lanes. John began to slow down when he realized what was going on. “They are about to do a race!” Sure enough, those drivers were lining up to run a quarter mile.

    Right in the middle of the thoughts about how dangerous, careless, and selfish a choice to do that on the highway was, I heard those car engines peal out. I was transported back to my adolescence and could only speak the truth, “There was a time when that sound was more pleasurable to me than an orgasm.”

    One thing I know for sure, right in the midst of whatever difficult, dangerous, or despicable event that is happening is something more. As my brother-in-law goes through cancer treatment he is surrounded by family and friends who care. Many contributed to a fund-raiser. Most say prayers. Some visit.

    Ryan Jon knows he was adopted. He posted an amazing video on FaceBook to his birth mother thanking her for making the difficult choices to give him his life. He wanted her to know he appreciates her and wishes her a happy Mother’s Day.

    Whatever Mother’s Day or drag racing means to you personally, take some time to reflect on the gifts right in the midst of any rough spots. What are the odds we would be at that exact spot on the highway at the exact moment those cars were lining up to race…. Chances are the chances are very slim, but we were at the right spot at the right time. Knowing that moment to moment is even better than an orgasm!