Leaving an Impression

Looking on Facebook at images of Tom Seghi and what he created, a niece wrote

...of two paintbrushes (one big and one small) that look like they have been used to paint numerous canvases. They are hanging together on a blank canvas ready to paint their next masterpiece...
reminds me of you & him and all the things you both created together, Auntie Laya. What a beautiful image...

But seeing the image on a flat screen can be deceptive.  In two dimensions it's difficult to perceive that the large brush is painted on canvas, while the small brush is an actual brush. From a distance, they both look painted (or "real").  Both brushes - the painted one and the actual one - have actual wires attached, making them appear suspended.  Watching people view the brush paintings and "get" the play on reality has been a source of delight for both Tom and me over the years. 

One of Tom's favorite art techniques was "tromp l'oeil," (French, literally 'deceives the eye',  an illusion created by extremely realistic imagery that makes the subject of the painting appear 3-D).  Using paint on canvas, he loved playing with the idea of what's real.  The fruit he painted often evoked the response, "It looks so real I could take a bite out of it."



Now that he's gone, I see yet another layer of meaning in his play with the concept of what's real or not.  Just as my niece suggested, Tom and I are indeed like those two brushes,  I am here in 3-D, and his impression remains, vivid as can be, but no longer "actual." He is in one dimension and I'm in another.

Mysticism has been an interest of mine for years; I've had a natural affinity for it from early on.  A key aspect of mysticism is the awareness of different dimensions of reality. There is a world that we see and there are invisible worlds.  In Jewish mysticism (I hesitate to say Kabbalah so as not to confuse it with the ever expanding Kabbalah business that promotes its own published books, red strings for protection and holy water at high prices), the concept of RESHIMU brings to mind what Tom was doing in his painting.

To quote from a website about Jewish mysticism (www.innerorg/worlds/reshimu.html) , the reshimu is compared to the fragrance of the wine which remains in the glass after having been poured out of it.  The reshimu is the consciousness of knowing that one has "forgotten."  It is the consciousness which arouses one to search for that which he has lost, the awareness that God is "playing" with His creation, as it were, a Divine game of "hide and seek."

Tom is in the invisible world now but he has left a profound impression here in this world - in the memories people hold of him, in his artwork, in his children and grandchildren that carry on the life he engendered in them.  For me especially, the question arises about how to traverse the different worlds, how to stay in touch with what I lost.   What is real? I ask myself, and I remember the Taoist dream of Chuang Tzu:

"I dreamed I was a butterfly, or was I a butterfly dreaming I was me?" 

The Circle of Life and Death

This brushstroke, a sacred symbol in Zen and a common subject of Japanese calligraphy, represents everything and nothing.   Infinity and enlightenment; the void and emptiness.  The space it encompasses and the space encompassed by it are of the same oneness.  Interrupting the oneness is the circle, the wheel of life and death.

As I try to absorb the loss of Tom Seghi,  the love of my life,  the image of this simple circle comes to mind.  One life. One single brushstroke.  Like what he created with his own deft hand, something I watched with awe on many occasions, his life itself was a singular, elegant and quiet revolution from start to finish.

Although his death happened suddenly and unexpectedly, when I turn back to look at how he had arrived at that point, it seems he had reached a remarkable closure.  The day before he died, we flew into Chicago and rented a car.  For the first time in the forty four years we've been together, he suggested that we drive to his childhood home in what was once the heart of a working class Italian neighborhood. That  home was at 2533 S. Spaulding, the downstairs apartment of a two story duplex.

The only time I had seen that building before was in snapshots taken for his family photo album.  I especially recalled the picture of him as a newborn, cradled in his mother's arms as she stood on the porch steps with his father and sister, his Italian immigrant grandfather standing by the door.  Another was him smiling broadly, a mere toddler on the porch.

In the intervening years, the neighborhood had become run-down, now primarily a neighborhood of Mexican immigrants.  A frequent display of graffiti indicated gang activity which explained the wrought iron fences that were put up after Tom's family had moved away. 

The owner of the building lived upstairs.  He responded graciously to Tom's request to walk through his  home:  "Thank you for coming back, he said. "I sit upstairs and wonder who used to live here before me."

Knocking on the door of the first floor apartment, where a sister and brother of about 10 and 12 years old were home alone, the landlord explained the reason for our visit and walked us through.  "Is it smaller than you remember?" he asked Tom.

"No," Tom said,  "it's exactly as I remember it; nothing has changed."  He then proceeded to engage the children, "That's the room where my sister slept, and that's where I slept."

Afterwards we went upstairs to the owner's renovated apartment.  Tom told him how less than a month before, we had taken a trip to Italy with our son, met the remaining Seghi's there and together visited LaSega, the mountain hamlet of their ancestors.

The owner was receptive and encouraged the conversation further.  Tom then shared the experience of visiting the small town of Coalgate, Oklahoma where his grandparents and relatives had immigrated TO.  By actually stepping on that land, the stories his father had told him about growing up in Oklahoma, had come alive for him.

Retracing his family's itinerary,  from Italy to Oklahoma to Chicago, Tom shared how especially fulfilling it was to bring his son Danny back to Italy to learn where the Seghi's came from.  As they stood together in the family cemetery of Ospitale, overlooking the mountains of Emilia Romagna, Tom had pointed out the gravestones of the Seghi ancestors. "This is our past," he said, "and you are the future."

"Yes," the owner nodded knowingly.  "It's so important to go back to where you come from, to stay in touch with that connection.  Even though time passes, the connection is always present."

Tom had come back to exactly where he had started, like a salmon returning home.  Navigating great distances against incredible odds, and realizing so much in the process, it seems he had just completed that beautiful sweeping movement of his life.  A full circle.

I write this on the final day of "Shloshim" - the 30-day mourning period from the day of burial - traditionally observed in Judaism.  Since Judaism teaches that a deceased person can still benefit from the merit of good deeds done in their memory, it is the privilege of those of us who knew him to act in ways inspired by the unique person that he was:  loving, humble, confident, gentle, creative, peaceful, forgiving, and attuned to beauty.   May his soul be elevated by our actions.

As always, please feel free to share your comments and read those of others.  We each have a perspective that is ours alone.

Shoes for Sale

A client of mine that I hadn't seen in several years heard about the death of my husband Tom.  After an initial email of condolence, she wrote me the following:

I guess because you've been on my mind all week... Had a dream last night that I went to your house and you were with a lot of people, as Shiva was being held.  So I went outside, and was by the water, when your son Danny came up and started talking about love and how he had just realized how much he was surrounded by love.  Then we went inside and someone had started building shelves and putting shoes on them .. to sell.  Not your shoes, they were going to open a shoe shop.  Have NO idea what any of that might mean ... possibly nothing!  But it was odd I even recalled it, and still now later in the day its so vivid.

I sat with her dream for awhile.  Then I wrote her back:

First of all, what Danny said to you was exactly what he has been saying to the many visitors who came during the week of Shiva which ended yesterday...

Here is what I understand about the second part of the dream, the shoes: Tom was the most grounded person I have ever met. He was the source of stability for our family and for so many that came in touch with him. The way he walked on this earth was solid. He modeled a way of living that was present, mindful in each moment, whether talking to someone, looking at or painting a piece of fruit or a cloud, sailing a boat, fishing with his granddaughters or repairing any of the broken things that it seemed only he could fix.

During the week of Shiva, as we talked about his life, we were dispensing stories about the way he walked in the world. The memories people shared of  the impact he had on them offered very vivid examples of how to live as he did, with two feet on the ground. The shoes, the way to walk, were on the shelves for all to see. Each person that visited was given the opportunity  to "buy" what they were hearing - to take ownership of their own way of walking in the world in the grounded way that Tom walked.

Does the shoe fit? Anyway, that's how I interpret the dream ....

Please feel free to offer comments so that I and others may benefit.  In future postings, I hope to share some stories about Tom and reflections about our life together.

A New Day

My cousin Michael wrote to me and reminded me of my last posting on this blog.  He thought it was a preparation.  The blog was dated January 1st of this year 2011.  In it, I welcomed the new year and wrote:

"We are alive, now. Next year at this time we may or may not be.  Right now, we have all the conditions we need to welcome this day and be grateful for it.  To look at the people in our lives, really see them, and say, "I am here for you."  I am here.  I am.  What a wondrous awareness to accept this blessing of life.  Yes, it is 2011 already!  Welcome to the new day, the new year."

In the months between then and now, that has been my practice. Waking up, I have directed my attention to be thankful each day for the gift of 24 brand new hours and for the gift of my loving husband Tom. How fortunate I have been to live with this awareness.

Exactly three weeks ago tonight, on July 9th, 2011, we were in Chicago to attend the wedding of his brother's son.  On a beautiful balmy night, in an atmosphere of joy and celebration, surrounded by family and dancing with Tom, I had the thought "I am perfectly happy."  Moments later, Tom collapsed on the floor.  In less than two hours, he died in an emergency room of a massive heart attack.

The past three weeks have been filled with one intense experience after another: the grief reaction of the body, the outpouring of support and compassion, the stories recounting small acts of kindness and the realization of what a huge impact even a small act of kindness can have, the opportunity to learn from the past, the ever present choice to move forward on the path of regret or of gratitude.  Above all, the love.

Everything I've spent years learning is now being put to the test.  Once again, I am turning to this blog as a way of sorting through my own experience and sharing with anyone who chooses to benefit.  I continue to believe that we are all connected, that we are more similar than different, that what I have taken from my experience may speak not only for me, but perhaps for you too.  Please feel free to share your comments so that others may benefit.

Welcome to the New Year - 2011

A new year has arrived & with it reflections on the passage of time.  The year behind us is over and if we dare, we can look back and consider:  have we lived well?  have we been fully present for the people we love or the people we know, have we been present for ourselves? 

Taking note of time, whether consciously or unconsciously, we surely register that we are closer to the day of our death.  The younger generation is sprouting up behind us, full of the sass of youth, the juicy sap that compels them to grow relentlessly beyond us. They may be unaware now, but before long, they too will realize that impermanence is the destiny for all of us. 

Are we ready to face our death? Our life?  What are we waiting for?  What are the "conditions" that will make coming home to our true selves possible?  Although our minds continue to feed us the lie that we won't be ready until we accomplish this or that goal - money, love, career, you name it - , there is NOTHING we need to wait for. 

We are alive, now. Next year at this time we may or may not be.  Right now, we have all the conditions we need to welcome this day and be grateful for it.  To look at the people in our lives, really see them, and say, "I am here for you."  I am here.  I am.  What a wondrous awareness to accept this blessing of life.  Yes, it is 2011 already!  Welcome to the new day, the new year.  

How Healing Happens...

Once again, as I approach the task of writing, discomfort arises naturally... a rumble from underground since writing reaches down below the surface and touches on my inner life.  What is my story and how do I heal, become whole?!  I trust that speaking the truth of my life will speak to others as well. 

I manage to avoid the question as long as I can with seemingly endless distractions.  Yes, there are so many important things to "do" and that must be done.  Cumulatively, the lists of people to contact and errands to check off amount to an obstacle in disguise. In Radical Acceptance, Tara Brach states that the  the Chinese ideogram for "busy-ness" means "heart-killing."  While Chinese scholars may take issue with the pseudo-Oriental wisdom so espoused (see: http://www.pinyin.info/chinese/busyness_heart_killing.html), the thrust of her point is in the right direction. As neutral or even valued as busy-ness may appear, it often is used to avoid and deny the call of the psyche, that inner process.

By answering the "summons" that requires me to put words to my experience, I face the dread of owning up to my own defensive strategies.   As long as I immersed myself fully in helping others transform their suffering, I maintained some protection from looking at my own.  But taking the inward journey and expressing myself consciously strips me of that protection.  I am exposed to myself and to readers alike.  Facing fear and doing it anyway,  a great title for a book (see http://www.amazon.com/Feel-Fear-Anyway-Susan-Jeffers/dp/0449902927), is one part of how healing happens.  But it's not all about "doing" and it's not that simple.

My clinical experience over and over again showed me the path to healing for others was helping them safely approach an experience or affect that previously overwhelmed them.  Although based in past experience, whatever overwhelmed the psyche continues to accumulate energy and shape who we are and what we become.  In Jungian terms, those packets of energy are "complexes" and all of us have them. 

Only by becoming conscious of our individual complexes can we begin to engage maturely in the mystery of our lives.  Instead of being "fated" to live out a destiny shaped by our history, identifying our complexes gives us new options, choices that we can act on, to expand the narrow space that seemed to be our "self."

But...yes... BUT!  We may have choices, but our complexes have accumulated energy over our lifetime. Those old patterns are as if embedded within us through the force of habit.  To alter their automatic function, we have to develop a counteractive awareness practice that can impede their force and direction.  It's far from easy to see the force of the train coming and turn it around before it rushes on to its destination.  At the least, for healing to begin, we have to start with resolve and determination, on the lookout for the patterns that prevent us from being whole.

On The Transformation of Suffering

Almost 30 years ago, I completed graduate school.  My intention was to become a professional clinician with the skills necessary to help reduce suffering in the world, one person at a time.  I did believe, and still do, that "saving one person is like saving a world." 

Over the course of my professional practice, I know that I did indeed help reduce suffering - for some more profoundly than for others.  I learned a range of techniques and modalities, constantly on the quest to go deeper into the source of the suffering and to find better ways out of it.

Now here I am, recently returned from our extended road trip, in somewhat of a standstill.  Yes, I can crank up the wheels to get my private practice going again, but I've been paying close attention to my inner direction and I notice my reluctance to seek clients now.  What am I waiting for?

I started this blog with the image of "confronting my tiger."  Even after several entries, I'm aware that my anxiety continues to surface when I think about writing.  What conditions from my past continue to limit me in the present?  Wouldn't rushing back in to help relieve the suffering of others be my personal addictive strategy - albeit a socially acceptable one! -  to distract myself from my own buried pain? 

I brace myself.  Right NOW is the opportunity to look deeply at the source of my own suffering.  If I understand it, I can hope to transform it, however long it takes.  The lessons I've learned in the course of my own professional practice  - about how healing happens - can help me transform my own negative habit patterns. My entries about my own process, as I confront my tiger, may provide me with a map of where I went and hopefully, how I successfully got the hell out of there!  Even though the map is not the territory, as we know, somewhere down the line my map may be useful to a reader who feels lost or in peril.