Month of Mindfulness Haiku Challenge

It's a new year...do you want to bring more mindfulness into your life this year? Join me for month-long mindful challenge. Several readers joined me in a 30 day Haiku Rally in 2013, let's jump start our mindfulness in 2015 by embracing the Month of Mindfulness Haiku Challenge during January. The challenge is to write a daily haiku about something you notice each day. 

If you remember the format of a haiku, it is deceptively simple, 3 lines composed of 5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables, but the finished product is beautifully complex and an expression of a mindful moment in your life.

I will be posting my daily haiku on this blog, and I invite you to include yours in the comment section or to write privately. 

Haiku #1

Ice crystals glisten
Each breath becomes visible
Start of a new year


Savoring Connections and Widening the Circle


As I reflect upon the year that is ending, I am struck by the beauty of connection. I am grateful for the bonds that were forged and strengthened throughout 2014.

One of my highlights of 2014 was putting connection to the test at Medicine X at Stanford University. Moving from online friends to IRL (in real life) friends proved to be seamless at Medicine X.  A testament to the power of connection that is formed in so many spaces, virtually and face to face. Thank you to my dear friends and colleagues @SusannahFox, @MeredithGould and @Colleen_Young for sharing the stage and yourselves with me at #MedX. I am looking forward to visioning our next appearance with these "Ladies of the View"

As we savor the last moments of 2014 and prepare to step into 2015, my resolution is to nurture and celebrate connections and to continue to widen my circle of community.

Wishing you a year of hope and health...along with lots and lots of connections!


Wabi-Sabi + Kintsugi = Resilience

G'Tis the season....for Wabi-Sabi. For those of you who aren't familiar with this term, it is a Japanese aesthetic honoring and celebrating the beauty of imperfection. Wow, what an amazing reframing of our obsession with perfection, especially during the holiday season!

I have written about the concept of wabi-sabi on this blog and you may want to read some of the archived posts. I recently came across another wonderful  Japanese term, related to the essence of wabi-sabi called kintsugi ("golden joinery").

Kintsugi is the centuries-old Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with a special lacquer dusted with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. Instead of discarding treasures when they become broken, they are repaired with jewel-like metal; acknowledging, with visibility, that while they may have once been broken they are now strengthened, and more valuable because of their repair. What a message of resilience not just for pottery but for ourselves. Repairing with gold the scars of a life well-lived as a indication of resilience is a metaphor that I can wholeheartedly embrace.

Will you join me this holiday season in using the gold and silver glittering decorations as reminders to engage in the practice wabi-sabi and kintsugi? Let's celebrate the beauty of imperfection and acknowledge the strength and courage of repairing adversity with gold.

Happy Holidays...wishing you a month of celebrating wabi-sabi and kintsugi
Pam   

Gratitude


Thanksgiving...a day set aside in the United States to cook and feast with friends and family. It's also a day to stop and notice the bounty we are given on a daily basis, but often miss in the cacophony of life's busyness. On this day of gratitude, I invite you to spend a few minutes to binge on this calorie-free smorgasboard of natural beauty and thanks lovingly captured by film maker, Louie Schwartzberg. I promise your heart will be filled with a bit more gratitude by the time you finish watching....Happy Thanksgiving. (click here to view Gratitude by Louie Schwartzberg)


Perception is Not Reality

Here is a little parlor game to play during this Thanksgiving holiday as you are with family and friends -- ask the group to to quickly shout out the color of a traffic yield sign. What did you and the others answer?

If you are like the majority of people I surveyed you said "yellow".  However, yield signs have not been yellow in the U.S. since 1971, they have been red and white for over 40 years! What I found so interesting in this simple test of perception, is that many of those who perceived the yield sign as yellow had not even been born in 1971; thus debunking my theory that only those older than 50 would say "yellow".  So why do we continue to think a yield sign is yellow? Perhaps this illustrates what the Dalai Lama taught me when he visited Boston last month..."just because we perceive it, does not make it reality". How very true!

Take a moment this Thanksgiving and truly step into mindfulness, check out those yield signs, and notice that perception is not necessarily reality.

Grace, Love, and Caregiving Choices

Full disclosure, I am a faithful listener to WBUR in Boston and I write for WBUR's Cognoscenti Page. I especially love On Point with Tom Ashbrook -- I have been known to have "parking lot moments" when I sit in my car, radio on, engine running in my office building parking lot, just to finish listening to a topic Tom and one of his guests are discussing. Tom's inquisitive questions and gentle yet focused interviewing style have kept me company on many mornings. Like many, I was saddened to hear that he was taking an immediate leave of absence to care for his wife who is very ill. Through this intentional choice of following his heart and his compassion, Tom has become a teacher to the rest of us that it is OK to say that family caregiving is a priority and to step away, albeit temporarily, from the demands of work. Tom posted a poignant and powerful letter to explain his decision yesterday, and I am sure I am not alone in feeling gratitude that he chose to share an
explanation of this difficult time with such grace, love and compassion.

Tom, as a male, has also taken bold move by stepping into the caregiving role. Statistics show that the vast majority of family caregivers during chronic illness and end of life are women. Often these women are attempting to work outside the home and be family caregivers at the same time, because of a lack of sick time or leaves of absence in their workplace. Tom's willingness to shine light on the need for families to have the ability take time away from their paid work for the well-being of their family is a teachable moment for all of us. Tom Ashbrook has been able to make this compassionate choice for himself, his wife and family is because he has been granted a leave of absence from his employer. As the Massachusetts election results rolled in on Wednesday morning and ballot question 4 (earned sick time) was approved by voters, it made me think of Tom and his family and gave me hope that another family facing end of life issues would now also be more able to make a similar compassionate choice without financial ruin.

To live in a compassionate society, we must be compassionate beings. Thank you to Tom Ashbrook, his wife Danielle, and their family for demonstrating what grace, love, and caregiving choices look like. I wish them peace, hope, and grace today and in the days ahead, and I will be welcome Tom back into my radio-listening life when he is ready to return.

"I Don't Do Death"

"I don't do death" a physician once told me. The culture of modern medicine asks us to embrace the promise that cure is always possible and death is a failure of the health care system or the inadequate skill of a physician or nurse. It is my hope that together we can change our current culture of medicine by expanding our expectation that our students, residents and fellows are trained with the same rigor in high touch medicine as they are in high tech medicine -- so all healthcare professionals "do death" AND "do life" with compassion and skill. It has been a year since I wrote the following essay for Cognoscenti (WBUR) . Today, I again returned to the Massachusetts General Hospital for the 2014 Pediatric Memorial Service, so please indulge me in this redux. I welcome your thoughts and comments. ~ Pam

Each year, early in October, a letter arrives with the return address of Massachusetts General Hospital, 55 Fruit St, Boston, Mass. I know immediately what the envelope contains and I pause and reflect for a few moments before I open it. Inside is an invitation to return to the place where my son, Nick, was treated for a deadly form of cancer when he was 14. We, as a family, also spent many days, weeks, months in this place: crying and laughing; watching fireworks magically unfurl in the dark sky over the Esplanade from windows on the 18th floor of the Ellison Building; waiting in the subterranean operating room holding areas in the warrens beneath the hospital; exploring the empty hallways late at night like the actors in “A Night at the Museum”; holding impromptu guitar jams in Nick’s hospital room; and ringing in the new year with noisemakers, shrimp cocktail and sparkling cider with hospital staff who drew the short straw and had to work on New Year’s Eve.
 
Perhaps learning to step into the full spectrum of life and death is the meaning that the children who didn’t survive bring to the practice of medicine.

The author pictured with her son Nick in 1997. (Courtesy)Nick died 12 years ago, so why do I still return to this place each year? It is because Nick, like the other children who were cared for in this huge, often anonymous institution are not forgotten — they are remembered and honored year after year with the annual Pediatric Memorial Service. In this medical mecca, children are not supposed to die. We are fortunate to have some of the best and brightest medical institutions in the world at our doorstep. Reports of miraculous new cures abound in the media, but there are some children who are not the success stories that are highlighted in hospitals’ marketing materials.

They are the children who didn’t survive. Those of us who receive an invitation to return to MGH each year for the Pediatric Memorial Service are a disparate group. Some of our children died when they were adolescents, some when they were in early childhood. Some died from a chronic illness, some from an acute infection or disease, and others suddenly by an accident. We come from different walks of life and professions. We speak different languages. Yet, on this day, year after year, alongside the staff who cared for our children, the barriers are lifted and we are all together as human beings, remembering the stories, sharing a hug, speaking our children’s names, and trying to find meaning in loss. Collectively, we understand the unique grief of losing a child.

Early in my professional career as a nurse, I heard a young physician say, “I don’t do death.” I’m not sure what this statement really meant — perhaps that somehow his superior knowledge could forestall death permanently? — but beyond its arrogance, it spoke of fear and hopelessness. As a society we are very isolated from pediatric death. We are fortunate that in the span of a few short decades we have seen a dramatic decrease in childhood deaths due to vaccines, antibiotics, and advances in medical treatments.
But this decrease has created a void in our health care professionals’ ability to know how to deliver care when finding a cure is no longer an option. Our medical and nurse training programs don’t “do death” well either, especially around societal taboos.

A physician at this year’s memorial service gave me hope for the future when she commented that her role as a doctor is to walk the journey with her patients and families and this includes the full spectrum of life and death. We look to our healers to cure us with the modern arsenal of medicine at their disposal, but when a happy ending is no longer possible, shouldn’t it also be their role to help guide us through the fear of the unknown and unthinkable, especially in pediatrics? Perhaps learning to step into the full spectrum of life and death is the meaning that the children who didn’t survive bring to the practice of medicine. Our kids have become the teachers, no matter how short their lives may have been. Their legacy is to continue to teach the healers how to walk alongside those who are confronting the unimaginable and unbearable with grace, humility and humanity.

So, I guess I keep coming back to walk through the doors of the Massachusetts General Hospital year after year to remember, share a story, and to say thank you for honoring these great teachers who keep medicine honest, healing and humble — the kids who didn’t survive.

http://cognoscenti.wbur.org/2013/11/05/pediatric-death-pamela-katz-ressler

About Me

Pamela Katz Ressler, RN, MS, HN-BC 

Pam founded Stress Resources in 2001 to meet the needs of individuals and organizations. 

A recognized thought leader and sought after speaker to local, national and international audiences on strategies of resilience, Pam received her nursing degree from the University of Michigan and graduate degree from Tufts University School of Medicine in Pain Research, Education and Policy.

She trained in mind/body medicine and mindfulness at Harvard University's School of Medicine and The Center for Mindfulness in Medicine, Health Care and Society at the University of Massachusetts Medical School. 

Pam has taught in the nursing program at the University of Massachusetts College of Nursing and Health Sciences in Boston and currently on faculty at Tufts University School of Medicine's Pain Research, Education and Policy Program where her academic research explores the intersection of health and social media in patients with chronic illness.

Pam serves on the board of directors of the Integrative Medicine Alliance and professional memberships include: Society for Participatory Medicine; Sigma Theta Tau: International Honor Society for Nursing Leadership and Research; National Speakers Association; American Holistic Nurses' Association; American Nurses Association. She's a featured contributor to WBUR's Cognoscenti. 

About Stress Resources, LLC



Stress Resources provides individuals, businesses and organizations with tools to build resiliency, connection, and communication.

We empower you to find effective strategies to increase creativity, productivity, leadership, connection and communication in all aspects of life.We encourage you to visit our website often because we frequently add interactive features.  

Discussing Social Media and End of Life

I have been on a wonderful whirlwind tour of listening, sharing, and discussion in online forums this summer in preparation of the upcoming MedicineX panel I will be moderating with my rock-star panelists -- @SusannahFox, @MeredithGould and @Colleen_Young on September 7. (To learn more about the inception of our panel and follow our "flipped classroom" model, please take a look at the Storify that Susannah Fox has compiled)

This week is no exception, as I will be guest hosting the always engaging and robust Tweet Chat #HPM (Hospice and Palliative Medicine). I hope to pose some questions and listen to the #HPM community regarding how social media is being used and perceived at the end of life. This is a complex and multi-layered area, filled with cultural stigma, fear, courage, vulnerability and ethics. Do we afford the same level of discussion and engagement when one shares about end of life as when one shares about other health concerns? What about when family members are posting about their loved ones at end of life (NPR's Scott Simon tweeted about the experience of his mother's death)? What about choices -- is there subtle and not so subtle bullying that occurs when treatment options do not align with other members of the online community?  I don't have answers, but I am open to listening, learning and sharing with others on this topic -- please join in #HPM at 9:00 PM ET/6:00 PM PT on Wednesday, August 20--newcomers welcome!

Here is the topic rundown for the August 20 #HPM chat:

T1 Do we have different standards in the use of social media for those at the end of life than for those who are in active treatment for a disease?

T2 Who determines appropriate use of social media in a situation when a family member is doing the posting on social media/networking sites (Facebook, Blogs, Twitter, etc.) and not the patient?

T3 Are there ethical issues that we need to think about?

CT: Closing thoughts

For background info:
Communicating the Experience of Illness in the Digital Age
Storify by Susannah Fox



2014 Medicine X: Communicating the Experience of Illness in the Digital Age

Time on the Internet can often be measured by the millisecond. We bemoan the shallowness,brevity and sensationalism of topics that seek to capture our momentary attention on our news feeds. Yet in the early part of 2014, a controversy hit the Internet with the intensity of a meteor and then instead of rapidly burning out, gained in intensity and continued discussion. The controversy became known on the Twittersphere as #Kellergate and revolved around separate columns written by former New York Times editor, Bill Keller and his wife, Guardian columnist, Emma Keller opining on blogger Lisa Bonchek Adams' frequent use of social media as a platform for chronicling and sharing her experience of living with progressive, incurable cancer. Topics of public disclosure of illness, ethics, dignity, TMI (too much information), choices surrounding treatment and death and dying were thrown into the open forum of the Internet. Without any precedent for such public sharing in real time, dialogue became divisive and heated. What appeared to be missing from the discussion was the impact of social media tools and online communities on the large population of those living with chronic illness. Attempting to add some insight to the phenomenon of illness blogging, I wrote a piece in early 2014 for WBUR's Cognoscenti site: Memo to Bill Keller: This is Why Patients Blog About Illness

Now more than half a year later, the discussion has stepped away from the specifics of the Keller/Adams controversy and has entered into a broader conversation on the issues of disclosure, community, isolation and connection. The international conference, Medicine X, held annually at Stanford University, has deemed this an important topic for the upcoming 2014 conference and has invited me and several colleagues to present a panel discussion entitled: Communicating the Experience of Illness in the Digital Age: Reaching Beyond the Keller/Adams Controversy.  I am honored to be the moderator of this panel of amazing thoughtleaders, Susannah Fox, Meredith Gould, and Colleen Young, all pioneers in the fields of peer-to peer-health, online communities, community management and the evolution of communicating the  experience of illness in the digital space. As a panel we will attempt to examine and identify the key aspects of the larger phenomenon of communicating the experience of illness in the digital age that we hope will help inform the continued evolution of online communities.

I would welcome comments and discussion in the comment section of this blog -- more voices on this subject are needed as we prepare for the Medicine X conference panel. I hope to see many of you in Palo Alto, September 5-7. For those of you who can't attend, I will post live-streaming and Tweetchat information for Medicine X as it becomes available.



Summer Thunder

As we enter the steamy months of summer, everything seems to expand and become larger than life, including rain storms. There is something awe-inspiring, fear-provoking, and finally soothing when listening to a summer rain storm. Perhaps not so unlike our thoughts and emotions? So, for this very rainy, awe-inspiring, reading a book on the couch, kind of 4th of July, I share with you a mindful haiku...

Rumblings of thunder
Now the rain's steady cadence
Listening to summer

Mindful May Musings

The simplicity and sparseness of the haiku again spoke to me today. I won't be composing a daily haiku this month, but at least an occasional expression of mindfulness may find its way to this blog. Feel free to share your own Mindful May Musings in the comment section.

Plum Blossoms

Pastel petals nod
As the rain kisses each branch
Blossoms unfurling

Boston Spring Haiku

Last November I challenged myself and my blog readers to compose one haiku a day as an exercise in mindfulness. While I am not sure I am ready to recommit to a daily haiku quite yet, I do find myself using the beautifully simple construct of a haiku to view the world through a more mindful lens. Today as I drove along the Charles River on my way to Boston this haiku took shape.


Boston Spring

Sailboats gliding by
Snowstorm predicted tonight
Springtime in Boston

Renewal

"Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe filled with slush"~ Doug Larson
Crocus 4-1-11
For those of us in the Northeast (and other areas of the country too, I hear) it has seemed like a never-ending winter...days of bitter cold and snow followed by more bitter cold and snow. But now the hint that spring may be on its way...a few blades of grass have become visible under the graying snowbanks. Somehow the turning of the calendar to March leads us to shift ourselves to the possibility of renewal.  The promise of spring, with later sunsets, birds songs in the morning, crocuses bravely waking up from their winter slumber to meet the sun, are all reminders of the impermanence of nature and even with a shoe full of slush there is reason to take a breath and be grateful for renewals.