Hugging Heals.

Posted on October 1, 2017 by vanessaleighsblog

Life has issued to me some deep challenges in the last few days, in the way of loss. Although I am not a person that typically senses that life accumulates troubles, or that bad things “happen in threes”, I felt a bit overwhelmed and taxed by events recently. And, although how things impact me is always within my own choice and control, I felt spent. I felt like I had enough.

In the span of four days, my beloved Hug Bug 1998 VW Beetle broke down 700 miles from my home; my wife’s sister died unexpectedly; and our cars were broken into and my work computer was stolen from my car. By Thursday, I felt tired, discouraged, and like I wanted to hide away in my home, under a blanket, and forget about everyone and everything. I had enough.

However, I am so grateful to have within me the gift of sight, the gift of awareness. I express gratitude for awareness daily, because without it, I see myself as a person in pain with no way to relieve it. With awareness, I can accept that I am in pain as it is, and love myself in spite of that. In addition, I can see another option to relieve the pain, or to accept things as they are. I have learned deeply about surrender, acceptance, and presence.

This weekend, here in Scranton, is The Scranton Fringe Festival. I participated last year, talking about The Hugging Army, and this year was to have two shows again to tell stories, share photographs, and instruct people on mindful hugging. As my first show approached, my level of enthusiasm was diminished, because I was focused on the loss and sadness that I felt. However, once again, awareness assisted me in seeing things another way.

You see, when I first began offering free hugs in my community, I saw it as just that: an offering to others. A giving to them what I believed that they needed or desired. After hugging strangers for two years, however, I deeply understood that I was also receiving something in return, with every hug that I received, and even with those that I didn’t. I was gifted ten fold. A part of me wanted to feel selfish for wanting to receive that gift. Yet, being honest about that, and also understanding that the mutuality of the hug itself has deep healing powers, I saw the opportunity in sharing it with others. I get every hug that I offer to people. Plain and simple.

And, I offered and received many hugs so far this weekend. And, in those hugs, I cried, I breathed deeply, and was present to what I was giving and what I was receiving, right into my heart center. I felt what hurt so intensely was healing, slowly and methodically, through the exchange of deep love, presence and respect. I understood, yet again, the importance of what hugs do in the world, for myself and for others.

I am not always sure why this became my path. Yet I know more and more each day why I will continue upon it. Why hugs are so important. And why my modeling of that opens me, and others, to a new way of being.

16Hugging Meditation

The music inside

Posted on June 8, 2009 by vanessaleighsblog

I was conducting a training last week on working with LGBTQ youths in the child welfare system, and part of the training was a panel discussion. A local support group for LGBTQ teens had some of their group members who were willing to come speak to us about life, coming out, and self knowledge from their own perspective. One of the young men shared a story with the group about attending a PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) meeting. This young man was at the meeting, and a man came to the meeting who is in his 70’s. That older man, for the first time in his whole adult life, came out as a gay man at that PFLAG meeting. The older man stated in that declaration: “I don’t want to die with the music still inside of me.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard that statement. Not just in the power that it held for that man, in that moment and all of the moments that led up to that decision making time. Sure, the power of that was unmistakable. However, the other powerful element of that story speaks to those that live in silence about who they really are, afraid to be open, afraid to share or reach out truthfully, and the circumstances under which many LGBTQ youths live. It speaks clearly to the fears about coming out and having supports available to them.

We all have such music inside of ourselves, symphonies that we have created by the lives that we live. Colors of talent and gifts and strengths, love and faithfulness and hope and joy. We have soulful melodies filled with angst and heartbreak and misunderstanding and deep sadness. The variety that resides there within us is endless, and it is essential that we recognize our creation of these symphonies.

However, just like when we enjoy a piece of music, or a good movie or book, we like sharing it with others. It speaks to what we like, what strikes a chord with us, and how those things connect us with others around us. That music that we carry around and are constantly revising and creating deserves to be unleashed on the world. For in being who we are truly meant to be, and in showing that beautiful self to others, that is what it is to truly live.

Don’t keep that light under a bushel. Set the symphony inside yourself free for the world to hear.

If I were your mom…….

Posted on January 6, 2009 by vanessaleighsblog

I have a mother who is a mom. I am a mom, a job that I love! This post is dedicated to my friends here who may have had a caretaker, or mother, but not a mom. This is for all of you.

If I were your mom…………………………….

I would carry you from the moment that you were born, as much as possible, without the slightest worry about spoiling you.

I would shower you with dozens of nuzzles and kisses a day, without a worry about germs.

I would giggle, smile, and talk with you constantly.

I would tell you that I love you, dozens of times a day.

I would laugh out loud as much as possible with you.

I would encourage you to take your first steps, and kiss your booboos if you fell and got hurt.

I would hold your hand when you cross the street.

mytwomoms

I would rock you to sleep.

I would tuck you into bed every night, with a kiss, and I love you.

I would tell you that I love you dozens of times a day.

I would tell you that I will always take care of you.

I would tell you that I will be here for you, as much as possible.

I would sit on the floor and play toys with you.

I would sing songs to you as much as possible.

I would absolutely delight in watching you discover anything, open a present, get a surprise.

I would play peek a boo with you.

I would hug you, kiss you, and touch you with affection whenever I felt it in my heart, which is always.

I would tell you that I love you, over and over again, until you would beg me to stop.

love

I would tell you that you can be anything, do anything, achieve ANYTHING, that you want.

I would never ask you to take care of me.

I would teach you to be a loving person, and to care about others.

I would never lie to you.

I would never abandon you or leave you alone.

I would love you, love you, love you, love you into infinity.

I love you all, children of the world, grown up or not………………………….. the love that I have is plenty to go around……………………………..

Feed the flame.

Posted on November 16, 2008 by vanessaleighsblog

Our soul, our spirit within, to me is best represented by a fire, sometimes blazing, sometimes glowing embers. But, just like a campfire outdoors, if a fire isn’t fed, it eventually will go out.

So it is with our souls. If we do not feed the spirit within, with whatever it is that stirs our soul the most- music, family, love, justice, compassion- then the flame goes out. To me, when the flame goes out, that represents the ultimate feeling of hopelessness. Where there is no hope, there is not even an ember remaining.

Many of us do have those embers within; the part of our spirit that we know is still there, but maybe we haven’t fed it in awhile. Maybe we haven’t tried to get it going with that which will help it catch; if what feeds that fire is justice, and we have participated in activities that really don’t serve that, it is like putting wet wood on a fire; it may catch eventually, but it isn’t what we need to be blazing. To best feed that fire within, we need to use tinder, dry wood that is aged and ready to burn, and to allow the flames to last once it catches.

It also doesn’t work well for our souls, if what we feed them with is newspaper on a fire. Sure, the flame flares at first, high and warm. But, it goes out quickly; there is no substance to it. To feed our souls properly, we need to use that which has lasting power, and that which has substance to it. Those pursuits that we have in terms of money, prestige, and notoriety don’t always last, and sometimes ring quite hollow in our souls, compared to those values and concepts that really feed us.

Now, even if we are able to feed our souls properly, and get that flame blazing with a lot of embers within it, storms will come. The rain will fall. Rain is never good for a fire; it is bound to dampen it somewhat. Sometimes, it can even just about put our fire out. Tragedy, setbacks, adversity, and hardship fall upon all of us. But, even the most dampened of fires still smoulder a bit; still have within them a bit of heat, a small, determined ember to keep it alive enough until we are able to nourish it back to full flame once again.

This visual is one of the most powerful for me when it comes to thinking about what matters to me the most, what feeds me best in terms of what I feel and need within my soul, my spirit, my core. The flame within me is best represented by love. And what feeds that the most in terms of tinder is family, friends, justice, compassion, truth, the world……… When I deny myself that which I need to feed the flame, I feel it dying down within myself. I grow cold inside. I long for the warmth of the flames once again.

I believe that we all have that within, and that we deserve to step back, go deep within, and see the condition of your soul. Sort through the coals, and find the ember that lies there.

And don’t forget to feed it.

Griddle cakes.

Posted on November 10, 2008 by vanessaleighsblog

Most Saturday mornings in our house are the same. First of all, it is my favorite morning of the week. I wake up, knowing that we don’t have to rush out of the house for work or for school. Even if we have something on our agenda for the day, first thing in the morning is our time. Even with having the weekend to sleep a bit later, Hannah and I are the early risers in the family, so we are up at the crack of dawn. Whether it is because we just cannot lay in bed awake another minute, or the cats want to be fed, or the dog wants to play.

Once the animals are cared for, and the coffee is brewing, the next step is taking out the electric griddle. Time for pancakes which is our Saturday morning ritual. We heat it up, and get out all of the ingredients. Bisquick. Eggs. Milk. Vanilla. And create we do. She makes the batter, even cracking the eggs like a real pro. She likes her pancakes REALLY thick, so we never add any extra milk, just leave it really thick and gooey. Then, she has become a real talent in pouring that batter on the griddle, whether she is in the mood for mini cakes, or full size, or extra large. I have taught her that you wait for most of the air bubbles to be popped, to know that it is time to turn it over (as taught to me by my dad, a great pancake maker from way back), and then to not push down on them once you turn them over.

Then, she gets a pile on her plate, puts on her margarine, with sometimes syrup on the side, and dives in. I never eat them, or hardly ever, but I love to watch. Watch her prepare, watch her cook, then watch her enjoy her creations. It really is a sight to see.

This gift on a Saturday morning, most every Saturday morning, started out as a gift that I gave to her; that special treat that I would cook for her every weekend to celebrate her hard work from the week before; to show her how much I love and appreciate how well she does in all areas of her life. However, that gift has shifted in its shape and form and intent. Now, it has turned to a gift that we share, a few stolen moments in our busy lives, when the world and even the house, is still kind of quiet and still. An experience that we share as we both participate in this activity, her breaking the eggs, me adding the milk, her pouring the batter, me turning over the griddle cakes.

But, ultimately, this has become a gift that she is giving me, every Saturday when we make griddle cakes, or anything else that we do together. She gives me the gift of watching her change, grow, develop, and become independent on her own. From the time when she was three, and we would make cookies together, and I would have to teach her how to break an egg; to a Saturday morning when she makes the batter, makes the cakes, and enjoys them as well. I am learning, growing, appreciating, evolving…

and, gently and lovingly, letting go.