Living Wondrously

Musings on finding the wondrous in life... seeing through new eyes.

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My brother always showed me he was happy to have me around...

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[livingwondrously]

Wisdom on a little scrap of newspaper

When we cleaned out Mum’s things after she died, we came upon a few surprises in her dresser drawers, especially the dresser that used to be Dad’s (that, in typical Deyell fashion, she managed to fill in addition to her own). One of the things we found was this little treasure, clipped out of a newspaper. She was devastated by Dad’s death at 57 and I desperately hope it gave her some comfort in the dark days after losing ‘the love of my life’. That line was another gem found in the drawer, part of a letter she’d written to herself after Dad’s death, totally unbeknownst to us. That drawer turned out to be a treasure chest, giving up its precious jewels. Now it sits on my dresser, beside my favourite photo of Mum. Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there; I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glint on snow, I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you wake in the morning hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circling flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die. Poem attributed to Mary Frye.

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Thoughts one year after the Brussels bombings

Having already posted my feelings today, two years after the Brussels bombings, I thought it was worth sharing the Facebook post I wrote on the first anniversary of the attacks, because I‘m struck by how moved I was in listening to my fellow citizens describe their experiences. Here’s what I wrote one year ago today...

Today is an important and very emotional day. One year ago today, my beloved Brussels was attacked by home-grown terrorists. Many people died, many more were injured and our wounded city is still recovering. One year ago right now, I was glued to my TV and my computer keyboard, translating what I was hearing on the news and in the press conferences for the expat community, many of whom speak neither French nor Dutch, the languages in which almost 100% of the news was being transmitted. Today, I am again glued to my TV. Because today I believe it’s important to remember. And to put myself in the shoes of those who were lost, or who lost someone, or who witnessed loss. I am touched to my core by the words I’m hearing. My heart breaks listening to the trials and suffering of the victims who survived, and for the grief for those who didn’t. I’m a woman of words – they are the foundation of my talents as a communicator, a storyteller and perception changer – so the combination of words and emotion is how I absorb these stories today. These are words that had me running for a pen and paper: Courage, dignity, humanity, solidarity, resilience, tolerance, dialogue, moving, touching, respect, anger, fear (of being forgotten), support, wounds, healing, inspiration, and the biggest little word of all: LOVE. I listened to interviews with victims who are still recovering and in pain. These are the most moving and inspiring quotes I heard: “My daughter is my religion” (Walter, who lost a leg and came very close to dying but thinking of his daughter kept him alive, whereas for others it may have been their religion); “I have my family, my job is waiting, I am alive; I am lucky” (Margaux, whose face, hands and legs are covered in scars and skin grafts, and whose husband touches her tenderly while she speaks); “I see her pain and yet I can’t relieve it” (Orphée’s husband, with tears in his eyes, as he talks about his wife and the hair salon they had just opened months before she was injured, and which they now risk losing due to financial struggles); “We saw the worst and best of man that day” (Lars, who lost his wife in the airport bombing and was comforted by strangers). Referring to the remembrance ceremonies today: “It helps to warm the heart that’s been broken forever” (Massimo, a TV reporter who lost his cousin in the metro bombing); “Young people need to feel Belgian” (Walter again, who is tirelessly promoting tolerance and connection of young people to their community, because these were Belgian terrorists, not people who were imported to blow up someone else’s city). The lawyer for the victims and families who are seeking help, on the verge of tears at several points, made the observation that amongst the entire group there’s: “never a word of hate or racism by the victims”. Here are the two quotes that moved me the most: From Walter, who I find inspiring in his open-heartedness: “Love is stronger than any medicine”. He’s referring to what got him through the trauma, but his words take on a broader sense in a city that is both the capital of Belgium and the capital of Europe, a city of all colours, races, religions, beliefs and cultures. And this heartfelt plea from the sister of a victim: “Please make sure these beautiful souls did not leave us for nothing”. I’m touched by these words because they come from a place of love; not hatred, not fear, not blame and not intolerance. Despite their mental and physical anguish, the injured and those who lost loved ones speak from a place of healing, a place of strength. We, who go on living our busy daily lives, should stop and think about their ability to choose love over hate.

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Images following the Brussels bombings on 22 March 2016 that killed 32 people and injured 340 people of 22 different nationalities.

Cat posts became the way citizens covered up reports of police activities during the Brussels Lockdown of November 2015 and following the bombings when raids were taking place as they searched for the terrorists. The other photos were taken at the Brussels Bourse, the Stock Exchange building, within the first days after the bombings. Residents gather at the Bourse to celebrate and mourn together, so it became THE place to commemorate the victims and connect with others as we grieved over what had happened in our city. My little dog Billy joined me, amongst the mourners and TV cameras where he was created some smiles of connection -- like with the two ladies sitting on the street, who had come by train from another city to pay their respects.

“JeSuisFrites” was a humourous take on the hash tag “JeSuisBruxelles” (I am Brussels). In case you didn’t know, (French) fries were invented in Belgium and are a national treasure :-)

(Star Wars cats image: BBC. All other.photos my own.)

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Healing while remembering

Today, Thursday, 22 March 2018, marks two years since the traumatic terrorist bombings that wounded Brussels and her people. The media will cover the commemoration activities, primarily for victims and families (less political and diplomatic than last year) at the airport and the metro station where the bombs went off, as well as in front of the sculpture in honour of all victims of terrorist attacks near the European quarter. The activity I was most pleased to see on the schedule is an opportunity for police, first responders and victims to mingle and meet. Who better to comfort the victims on the anniversary of their worst horror than those who rescued them. And vice versa. I’ve read about first responders who couldn’t go back to work because they were so traumatised by what they saw that day. Apocalypse-like scenes in a busy city’s morning rush hour.

Today I watched a report about Karen, the only remaining victim still in hospital two years later. She has no idea when she’ll be recovered enough to go home. One leg is pinned with thick metal rods and she only leaves her bed for physio sessions. Her wounds are war injuries; they shouldn’t be found in the capital of the European Union. You can see that she’s exhausted physically and mentally from everything she’s been through. “I don’t want to suffer any more... My body is permeated by pain, there are no words for the pain.” The terrible irony is that the reason Karen survived the airport bombing is because she was a top-level athlete and her body was so strong it allowed her to survive when others simply couldn’t have. 

Last year on this day, I watched a report where Walter talked about lying in the airport covered in blood after the first bomb went off, seeing his leg sitting several metres away. It took 1 hour and 41 minutes to get him to the hospital and he very nearly died. He, a Jew on his way to Israel that day, cried when he talked about the Muslim man who held him in his arms until help came. That man dialled Walter’s wife in Israel for him so he could tell her that he expected to die, and to ask her to prepare their daughter for the news. 

The stories were painful and I was in tears, but each one of the victims, police, and first responders who were interviewed reinforced what I felt when the bombings happened: that the horror of such a crisis brings people together. It brings out the very best in people, who show compassion, tolerance and even heroism. I believe that in many ways, Brussels is stronger because of what happened.

I also attended a memorial service in the cathedral in the centre of the city. It was a non-denominational service because the leaders of the various religions represented in Brussels were present, to show their solidarity and openness to working together to bring Brussels back to its feet. 

Now, despite the fact we’ve gone back to leading an almost-normal life (I hope it never becomes the norm in the western world to have the military patrolling the metro, the train stations and other public places), none of us will ever forget that terrible day when young men with bombs destroyed the lives of 32 people -- and their loved ones, injured 340 others, touched the 22 nations these people came from, and blew up our airport and a key metro station. According to a recent poll, 1/3 of Belgians are still nervous of taking the metro in Brussels. 

Several great projects have been initiated to bring tourism and commercial activity back to the centre of town, although I’d love to see us do more to bring together people in our own neighbourhoods, to show that we want to get to know and accept others for who they are, no matter where they’ve come from. Why do we find it so hard to remember that we are all connected as human beings? Why do we continue to build walls around ourselves to hide from our differences... religion, language, colour, education, culture?  

Today, I’m thinking of everyone who has been impacted in any way by the terrorist bombs of 2016. And I’ll continue to look for and find human connection in the small everyday actions and smiles of ordinary people.

“We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm, and adventure. There is no end to the adventures we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open.” 

In my wondrous world, Jawaharlal Nehru’s quote would read: 

“We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm, and adventure. There is no end to the adventures we can have if we only seek them with our hearts, minds, and eyes open.”

Why not check out my thoughts about a secret weapon for healing Brussels from a blog post shortly after the bombings?    http://www.wondrouswanders.com/my-secret-weapon-for-brussels/

[livingwondrously]

To love someone fiercely, to believe in something with your whole heart, to celebrate a fleeting moment in time, to fully engage in a life that doesn’t come with guarantees – these are risks that involve vulnerability and often pain. But, I’m learning that recognizing and leaning into the discomfort of vulnerability teaches us how to live with joy, gratitude and grace.

- Brené Brown

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One's destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things

Henry Miller

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Sometimes a life lesson comes wrapped in a furry package

Billy, my Chi-Shi Wonder Dog (he had a Chihuahua mum and a Shiba Inu dad), has taught me life lessons in ways I could never have imagined. He’s a very special little fellow who has a unique way of making wondrous things happen. 

I adopted Billy three years ago, when he was six, and we’ve been on an adventure ever since. He’s highly sensitive (as am I) so we read each other well and, believe me, he knows how to get his point across.

Billy has taught me that sometimes it’s actually fun to do something you don’t really like when you do it in a new way. The ‘something’ in question was Billy’s hatred of my love of photography. We’d go for a walk and I’d stop every few minutes to take a photo of a beautiful tree, a scene in nature or a unique architectural detail on a building. Billy would pull at the leash and the thought bubble coming from his head was clearly saying “I’ve had enough of this, can’t we just WALK?”.

Eventually, something interesting happened. Billy would sit quietly at my feet and wait until I’d finished taking my photos, we’d walk for a while, and when I got ready to take more pictures, Billy’d sit down again and relax until I was ready to move on.

Being a creative type, I decided to see if he’d go one step further. So I asked him to pose for me. Yes, I actually asked him. You may think that’s funny, but animals understand the difference between being told and being asked. And, just like people, they’re more likely to oblige you when it’s a request rather than an order. So there sat Billy on some steps in the park, posing proudly with his chest up and his head straight. It’s the first portrait I ever took of him and it’s still one of my best shots of my handsome boy. 

Since then, Billy has seated himself or been placed happily in front of key historic spots around Brussels and Belgium, including walls, tree stumps, logs, benches... anywhere I ask him to sit, he obliges me. And just before I click the button, he adjusts his posture. Every time. It’s no accident; Billy always wants to look his best. He’s a dignified fellow, so he’ll even pose his leg in order to hide his... um, man part... from the shot. 

When I tell him we’re going out on an adventure and I’m going to take pictures of him, Billy paws and licks my face to say he’s excited. I frequently use his adorable image in marketing photos for my business Wondrous Wanders, to show people some of the hidden gems we’ll be uncovering on our storytelling walks. Billy always comes on my research walks with me, and sometimes he even accompanies me with clients, if it’s appropriate.

People watch him posing for me, mesmerised that a dog will actually do such a thing -- and do it proudly and joyfully. But the very best thing about taking pictures with Billy? He has made it his secret mission to be a stealth kisser. 

When someone else takes a photo of Billy and me (people seem to enjoy doing this because we’re rather cute together), he poses in my arms so we’ll have a great team shot. What I only discovered after looking at many of these pictures on my computer screen is that just as the picture’s being taken, Billy actually leans up and kisses me on the cheek! 

Considering that he started out like an impatient child being tortured while I tried to do something I enjoyed, Billy has now transformed our walks and excursions into fun photographic escapades. 

Then there are our regular daily walks without a camera, which I often think of as being a bit of a drag. Have no fear, my intrepid canine companion has a solution for making walkies a wander-ful surprise.

I used to think I walked Billy. Not any more. Quite often it’s Billy who walks me! I kid you not. I don’t worry about where we’re going because when we come to a corner, I wait for Billy to lead me or I ask him “Which way?”, and off he trots. Or if I start to turn left and that’s not where he’s planning to go, he simply stops and looks at me, as if to say “Wrong way, Wen!”... and so we turn right and continue on our path. I trust Billy so I go along with his secret routes. One day he actually walked me all the way downtown to my favourite decor store, where I found a must-have item on sale for 70% off!!

So, along with giving me a massive daily fix of love and companionship, my fur baby has also taught me to take life less seriously, to turn things on their heads and make even the most mundane outing fun. I understand now that it was no accident that I turned up at the animal shelter when I did. The angels set it up so Billy would be there waiting for me, because he was being given a mission: help Wendy to live life wondrously.   

[livingwondrously]

10 Ways to ‘Reach Out’ When You’re Struggling With Your Mental Health

After my friend’s suicide, I realized something: We ask people to reach out. But we never explain how.

Brilliant tips to help you or someone you love to live wondrously, through human connection, in times of emotional or physical suffering. Sam Dylan Finch’s advice works, whether you’re suffering from mental health issues, grieving for a loved one, being forgotten in an old age home, or being bullied at school. Now you’re being shown HOW to ‘reach out’, so go ahead, ask someone for help.

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How do you ask for help?

Grieving is often a very solitary pastime. Yes, we begin the process together at the funeral or celebration of life, but we each have our own way of mourning because we each knew the loved one in our own unique and individual way.

So how do you come out of your cocoon of grief to get a ‘fix’ of humanity, especially if you don’t want to do anything more than connect with someone. 

In other words, how do we reach out and ask for help when there’s nothing specific we need or want? Maybe we need something from the grocery store but more likely, we need someone to affirm our existence and show we matter to them. What we really want to ask for is a hug, or a shoulder to cry on, someone to drink a cup of tea with, or watch a movie with. Or the simplest of all, we wish that someone would call us just to check in and say they’re thinking of us. 

It’s difficult to ask for these seemingly simple things. But I’ve learned that without asking, we’re likely to only receive a limited amount of what we’re looking for. Not because people aren’t thinking of us or don’t care how we’re doing, but simply because people are afraid of upsetting or hurting us by saying something that brings memories and/or tears. People tend to keep their distance out of respect for us.

So we’re back to having to ask for help. Yet we don’t want to seem needy, or overly emotional, or maudlin. And most of all, we don’t want to bare our guts and feel nakedly vulnerable -- we’re vulnerable enough already.  I’d like to borrow a few absolutely brilliant suggestions written in a blog post by a young man named Sam Dylan Finch. Sam writes a blog about serious issues that most of us wouldn’t have the guts to share. It’s called ‘Let’s Queer Things Up’ and in it he discusses ‘Queer/Trans Identity. Mental Health. Cats.’ You have to figure that you’re going to get serious information wrapped in a rather unique package. And you do. 

I believe I was guided to find Sam’s article (posted to Facebook by a friend) near the top of my news feed. There are a gazillion posts I’ll never see because I spend a lot less time on social media these days (that’s my head injury story, for another day), but I saw Sam’s. His article, “10 Ways to ‘Reach Out’ When You’re Struggling With Your Mental Health” is poignant because it is a heartfelt response to the loss of a close friend to suicide. In his pain, he wrote his helpful tips to assist people suffering from mental health issues. 

Yet with my wondrous power of helping people to see things through new eyes, I’ve identified several other important uses for Sam’s advice. The obvious one as it hits close to home is grieving people looking to connect with the outside world when their own world has tilted on its axis or may be falling apart.  I can easily imagine myself saying to a friend or relative: “I’ve been isolating myself a little lately. Can you check in with me every so often, just to make sure I didn’t fall off the face of the earth?”. Or “ I’ve been kind of sad lately — do you maybe want to Snapchat/send selfies to each other before bed every night, just to check in? It’d be nice to see your face.” You could propose many of his solutions to old folks who don’t get out much (and often don’t receive many visitors either), to people who have become shut-ins for medical reasons, to someone who has just lost a loyal pet and now goes through their day-to-day life unaccompanied, or to someone who has moved and needs to re-connect with the friends they’ve left behind.  It also strikes me that some of these tips could be helpful for kids who are being bullied. This request could work (or be adapted) for kids to use with a supportive friend or adult: “I haven’t been doing well. Can you text me every morning to make sure I’m okay? It would really help me.” Sam set out to help prevent others from suffering alone, from taking their lives because they didn’t know how to ask for help, to ‘reach out’ -- a phrase that has become ubiquitous and meaningless. I’d like to see people sharing Sam’s message because although it was born out of pain, it can bring light and life by connecting people. Whether you’re mourning, or some other emotional or physical hurt has found you, there are ways to ask for help that don’t involve gutting yourself in public to display your innermost pain. 

Have a read through Sam Dylan Finch’s marvellous advice and share his tips with anyone you think might be harbouring a need to connect, to be told they matter. And, most importantly, use them yourself when you’re feeling alone and need a ‘fix’ of humanity.

[livingwondrously]

The end of the world

“Don’t they know it’s the end of the world? It ended when I lost your love.” Today I found myself mysteriously singing these words made famous by The Carpenters. I had no music playing -- no radio, no TV and no computer. Yet, suddenly, I found myself crying as I realised that’s exactly how I feel: like my world has ended. I know this seems dramatic, since I still have family and friends, but the foundation of my life has, like a rug, been pulled out from under me. And I haven’t figured out how to live with this new reality. So for the most part, I ignore it. I bury my face in a book -- a place I’ve always gone to forget or be oblivious to the real world. I’ve read some great novels and learned all kinds of wonderful things about creativity and all things spiritual. I colour and I take Billy for long, meditative walks or to play ball in the park.  What I don’t do (most of the time) is feel the loss of my beloved brother, the guy who formed my love of so many things -- because whatever my big brother did, I HAD to do too. That’s how I ended up taking swimming lessons and becoming a competitive swimmer, how I ended up riding down terrifyingly steep paths through the woods on a mountain bike, how I skied down north-facing slopes that were sheer ice... because I wanted my brother to be proud of me, to know that I would go anywhere and do anything to be with him.  And now we’ll never be able to reminisce and laugh about these experiences when we’re old and grey. And that thought hurts more than I’m prepared to let it right now. So I’ll just go back to my book...

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Sunshine brings life

The sun is shining today -- which is always something to celebrate when you live in Belgium, where the sky is low and often grey. Just writing this makes me realise that no matter how sad or empty I feel, there is always some little thing to be thankful for. So when life gets me down, I hold on to the small things that make me smile or make my heart expand. Today I watched Billy play ball and kid around with his pals in the dog park while I caught up with their people, some of whom I haven’t seen for months.

You see, when the sun shines in Brussels people come out of hibernation. Even dog folk who are out every day with their furry friends tend to go for their walk and head back inside without hanging around during the grey and rainy winter months. Today’s sunshine brings a feeling of dogs and their people coming back to life. I’m hoping some of today’s feel-good vibes stay with me in the days to come, as I continue to tackle my up-and-down moods while adapting to life without my brother.

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If you want to see the sunshine, you have to weather the storm.

Frank Lane

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A magical garden oasis

While my brother was sick in hospital, I was able to send him healing energy, often in combination with my sister’s reiki treatments. We were able to ease his body and mind, together and separately.

Sometimes, I was guided to help him visualise a beautiful, peaceful place to help distract him from discomfort. I created a gorgeous garden paradise where he and I lay on chaises longues, surrounded by wild flowers of every vivid colour and type imaginable. We could hear the birds chirping in the trees that lined the garden and we could feel the dappled sunlight on our faces.  There were other sounds too: the tinkle of the water in the fountain that was topped by cherubs, the wind chimes hanging from the door, and the gentle lap of the turquoise water of the swimming pool greeting the tiled edge when a breeze blew over the surface.

In part, I was visualising this secret garden for my own benefit, hoping to manifest it some day as a ‘bolt hole’ from city life. But now I don’t ever want to sit in that garden. It would make me sad not to be sharing a relaxing glass of wine with Dave. It was meant to be a healing spot for both of us. Now it’s a reminder of the past, of missed opportunities and shared moments that will never happen.

I planted that garden as a healing oasis, now it’s a graveyard; a land of lost dreams.

I still hope to manifest a peaceful garden retreat, but I’m creating a new vision. One that will be equally beautiful, yet unique. I’d be happy to find Dave’s spirit sitting beside me, but I’d prefer to greet him in a different garden from the one where I would have heard his voice and his chuckle, and seen his crinkly-eyed smile looking over at me.

[livingwondrously]

My Secret Weapon for Healing Brussels

I have a secret weapon that makes people smile, almost without exception; that makes people stop in the street, and that leads to wonderful warm

Writing my ‘On furry friends’ blog post reminded me of this one, written in April 2016, a month after the horror of the terrorist bombings in Brussels. Billy became a means of connecting with people as we wandered our city’s streets.

[livingwondrously]

On furry friends...

I’ve just spent about 25 minutes meditating. That wasn’t what I set out to do. I was actually making notes about marketing my Wondrous Wanders walks and talks. But then my furry bundle of joy asked to be picked up -- and suddenly I started having all kinds of great ideas. Billy has become my creative muse since I adopted him three years ago. People love seeing Billy’s updates and photos on Facebook. It turns out he’s also a meditation magnet. 

I have a very busy mind where thoughts whirl like hurricanes most of the day. Yet as soon as my ‘fur baby’ gets on my lap, lies back against my chest and looks up at me with his big brown eyes, the whirling dervishes in my head take a coffee break and I calm right down. There are studies that prove that stroking a dog or cat lowers blood pressure, increases our ‘feel-good’ hormones and natural painkillers -- and the effects are felt much faster than if you take stress-reducing medication.   So while I’ve had to be pretty quiet for the past few months recovering from a concussion and related complications, Billy has become my healing medicine -- he’s an anti-depressant and mood elevator bundled into a soft, furry little body. His unconditional love and our soul connection (if you think I’m exaggerating, you should attend an animal communication workshop) bring me joy during the toughest moments. And since my brother died in January, Billy’s emotional radar is off-the-charts accurate. He watches and listens to me and wanders by just to touch me to reassure both of us. He lies beside me while I read or watch a movie, and although he usually sleeps in his own little bed, he’s been sleeping on mine while I recover from the sh*t that has recently hit the fan that is my life.

And the thing that can make me both crazy frustrated and crazy in love with him at the same time is when he thinks I’ve spent too long online. He begs to come up on my lap and then stands on my legs with his front paws on my keyboard. The words “That’s enough now!” are as clear as if they were coming from a thought bubble popping out of his head!

If you’ve enjoyed reading this, you can credit the 25 minutes of Billy-induced meditation I just enjoyed as I tickled his tummy and kissed his head. Not only have I relished writing it, but I feel lighter and happier.  So if you have access to a furry friend, I highly recommend spending some quiet time with them. This for me is one of the most fun and effective ways of living wondrously, no matter what’s going on in your life.