Category Archives: News

Papa’s Perseverance, Pain and Power

Dad on Bike
My 94 year-old, WWII French Resistance fighter of a father, still resisting tyranny, the tyranny of a body aging. He is a hard-working, hoping to heal himself human and he blows my mind.

This post was written over the course of several weeks. I am now home in California:

Wednesday June 21st, 2017~ I’m relaxed at this exact moment. I just had a two hour Tok Sen Thai Massage at Siam Sensation. This is my first break in six days since flying to Denver on June 14th to take care of my father post his wife’s death on June 7th. My brother and his partner are spelling me for a few hours. It’s been hellish and hard and I’ve had no time to cry, really. Tears leak out in moments, but the work-load is pretty constant. Caring for a 94-year-old beloved who is in fairly constant emotional and physical pain is a full-time, many person endeavor. My father’s just six weeks from having fallen and broken his hip, then gotten hip replacement surgery, followed by a minor heart attack two days later and being intubated despite his DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) order and then having to be in a rehabilitation facility for a month and watch his beloved wife, of the last 18 years, Judy wither away and die. This is the territory I entered when I came to Denver for the second month in the last three. I spent all of April and one week of May here helping with the hospital stay and the transition to the rehabilitation facility.

It’s a week later, once again, getting a respite at the home of my brother, his partner and my daughter. Sitting in the back yard of my childhood home. My father gave my brother and his partner this home when he moved to Denver to be with Judy. This was where I spent half of every week as a child. It’s more lovely than it ever was when I was growing up. My daughter has filled the downstairs with the art of my grandmother, her great-grandmother Perla Barchilon, her grandmother/my mother Helen Redman, and her other grandmothers’ (Maren Frank and Rachel Heller’s) art is also all over, as is my brother Paul Barchilon’s and also my daughter’s own art. The place is clean and colorful and not-cluttered. It feels like home in a completely different way than it did as a child. My brother and his partner also live upstairs in the home they designed and it is completely fantastic as well and full of art, beauty and calm.

Papa blue robe
Painting of my father, by my mother Helen Redman, in the entry way to the downstairs, pottery by my brother Paul Barchilon, decor by my daughter

Is this  where we should move my father? Should he go into an Assisted Living/Nursing home, a thought that initially made him cringe (since starting this article my brother and his partner looked at many homes and found two that are within budget, barely and that my father also didn’t hate). We cannot afford full-time care-giving for him at his place through an agency. We cannot afford over-night care for him either through the agencies that provide that. With his funds, possibly a few hours a day could be managed, but that’s not going to cut it, in my opinion. Furthermore, he hasn’t been alone since March 30th when he fell and broke his hip. We are most likely, at this point, hiring someone to care-give outside of an agency, which is half the cost, which is pricey, but within his budget and allows him to live at home, which is what he wants. My brother will have to manage all of this and we will vet the person and make sure their police-records are checked, but it’s not the same as a family member.

Shira Home
My daughter’s clean and lovely living room downstairs from my brother’s place full of books and beauty.

My tears are still intermittent. The reality is that my father cannot live on his own, not yet, perhaps not ever. Despite two months of my time and life and the practically constant care and presence of my brother over the last six months, my father is not healed enough to live on his own. Both my sons have flown out to help for a week each and my daughter is also a regular presence in his life and home now. My Papa thinks he wants to be independent and on his own in his own home, but he’s had the loving and devoted presence of his wife in that apartment and since her death, he has had a steady stream of loving family. This will no longer be the case. There are kind and devoted folks in his building that care about him, but they cannot care-give him or be there in any kind of medically responsible way. He doesn’t want to live with my daughter in her study, which we would convert to a bedroom. He doesn’t want to live anywhere but his own home, who can blame him for that?

I haven’t had the energy to see any of my friends while I’ve been here. I cannot even make phone calls or emails much. The schedule at night has been my father needing help every two hours or so, with blankets, incontinence issues, pain management, difficulty breathing, thirst, etc… So, I’ve been in a pretty constant state of sleep deprivation, with nights off once a week or so on Shabbat if we pay the $300 it costs for one night’s care for him or when it has worked for my brother or my daughter to spend the night. Obviously not a sustainable situation.

Issac Nicole feet
Issac’s wounded foot taking a break, next to my tired feet from hours of moving things around in Dad’s apartment to try to get his office converted into a room that a care-giver/live-in could actually live in!

And I’m not even touching the sadness here, the pain of my father’s loneliness sitting at the table while I do the dishes or the cooking and he looks out the window missing his wife with every fiber of his frail body and incredibly clear and cogent mind. He told my son Issac and I, while explaining that he was going to speak to us as if we weren’t in the room so he could say what was on his mind, “I pretend she is on a trip or out doing errands and this lasts for a few hours and then I remember that she’s never coming home.” There were tears streaming down his face while he shared this.

Dad Post it
The note I found in Judy’s bedside dresser while cleaning things out in my father’s apartment.

This situation is so damn hard.

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Thanksgiving in Colorado a few years ago. 

And, my daughter said the other night, it’s not even bad really, because we are all loving with him and each other and he isn’t destitute (he taught French at CU Boulder for 45 years and has a good pension). He has options and we will figure out how to navigate all of this, with the capable minds and bodies of my daughter, my brother and his partner here in Boulder and myself and my family here in California. In the long-run, this story is a love-story, a family caring for each other and the person most in need with kindness, effort, intelligence and profound love. Whatever difficulties have been in my past with my father or in my brother’s past; my papa had a temper and he has never approved of my spiritual calling or my emotional nature (he thinks I should have been a lawyer!). Still, he has always loved us, gifted us with his time and caring, and been there for us in BIG ways. It’s our turn now.

Dad Waving
My father in a moment of less pain in the new recliner/lift chair in his living room at home.  I realized we needed to get him this chair, in the middle of one particularly difficult night. He can sleep for two or three hours comfortably here, and it’s his new favorite place to be!

 

 

Honoring Judy~the Light, Love, Laughter and Lift in my father’s life.

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The altar I made for Judy as she was taking her last difficult breathes on this earth.

This incredible woman Judith Senior Barchilon died the other day. She was responsible for bringing a smile to my father’s face and for joy in him that I had never previously experienced him having. Their love story is important, even though it has sadly ended. Their love hasn’t ended just their being together in this world has-—and it is very hard.

Judy was a very private person, I still don’t know enough about her, even though she and my father have been together for the last twenty years. I hope to learn more about her from her grandchildren and daughter and my father as I want to honor her memory accurately.

I always tell folks who are lonely or who have given up on love, my father and Judy’s story. My father was 75 years old when he reconnected with a woman he briefly dated while they were both getting their doctorates at Harvard post WWII. Judy and he had a date or two, but it didn’t work out for them at that time.

I’m glad it didn’t work then, because otherwise, I wouldn’t be here, and you wouldn’t be reading this. My mother and father needed to be together for my sister, my brother and myself to be born. It’s very hard for a marriage to survive the death of a child, and my parents’ marriage didn’t. Post my parents’ divorce my father dated a series of women and even married one woman. She promptly forbade me from entering his home, once they were married. I was eleven at the time. That marriage, was over right after I was forbidden entry to my home.

My father never gave up on love. He is a Moroccan, Mediterranean Man, full of intelligence, vigor, desire, passion, loyalty and persistence. These qualities led him eventually to Judy. One day, over his morning coffee, he was reading his Harvard Alumni journal when he saw a byline by Judith Merrill. He read the piece and recognized the writer as the woman who he had briefly dated over 40 years previous. He saw that she was living in Colorado Springs. Since he lived in Boulder, he sent Judy a note and asked her if she remembered him and would like to get together. The answer was yes, of course, she remembered him, and yes to getting together.

Well pretty soon they were living together and a few weeks later they were married. This 20 year love story has been such a gift to our joint families. My brother and I, as adults, got to experience a softer, kinder, happier man than we’d ever known. The two of them were inseparable. Knowing how bereft my father will now be is heart-breaking for all of us. At 94, he is recovering from his recent hip fracture and minor heart-attack post the surgery for his hip repair. He emerged with flying colors from this health crisis and is healing physically. Judy died within six months of her lung cancer diagnosis, just a month shy of her 86th birthday. She never smoked, was an amazingly health-conscious, fast walking and fit woman for all the years we knew her.

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At one point with my father, while he was in the rehabilitation center that Judy and he were sharing a room at, he said: “We didn’t do anything wrong. We just wanted to live our quiet sedate lives together.”

And, of course, death is not fair, nor is it about doing something wrong, in this circumstance, it’s just plain sad and unfair.

For Judy’s daughter and her grandchildren, the extremely quick and terrible decline in Judy’s well-being that led to her precipitous death, is also extremely sad. We are all so sorry to have lost Judy. What is not sad, is how all of us as a family, a co-joined family have taken care of each other. Even though the systems in place for caring for elderly folks, needing more care than they can give themselves, is woefully inadequate, we found a place for both my father and Judy to convalesce together when they were most vulnerable. Between my brother, his partner, my daughter, my youngest son, Judy’s daughter and family and myself, there were daily visits, extra care, foot massages, flowers, music, hand holding and a constant circle of folks present to offer love, and support.

This has been no small feat. This time of my life is about caring for family, so I’ve been able to spend a month at a time in Colorado and give respite and support. I will head back to Denver in a few days to spend the next month living with my father in his and Judy’s condo. Since Judy died, my children have been making meals for my father, along with my brother, and have spent time with him and slept there as well. He has not been alone, nor will he be from now on, which is how it should be, but not how he wanted it to be. He wanted to be with Judy. We can’t do that for him. But we can honor Judy by loving my father and by keeping him close and being there for him as he navigates whatever time he has left to walk this earth.

My brother wrote the following to let our extended family know about Judy’s last moments:

“I am very sad to inform everyone that Judy passed away early in the morning on the 7th of June.  The situation had become quite difficult for her, and I think the struggle was too great.  She showed incredible courage, grace, and wisdom in her final days.  She decided she wanted to be off life support, and requested that dad, Lynn, and myself be present. We were with her as the oxygen mask was removed and she was able to speak a little.  Her final words to my father were “you’ll be all right”.  Even as she was passing, she was concerned for him and acting to protect him.  Tom, Lilly, Kathryn, Shira, and Ethan were all with us too.  As a family, we were present for Judy as she let slip this mortal coil and finally found the rest and peace she had been wanting for so long.  It was very hard for everyone, but there was also an element of great beauty as well.  Judy chose to go at a time when she could say goodbye to all of us.  We stood silently with her after she passed, paying tribute to the most wonderful woman in the world, and honoring her courage, intelligence, determination, resilience and beauty.  She chose to donate her body to science, and did not want a funeral.  We will probably have a celebration of her life at some point in the future, and we will let everyone know.

Dad is heartbroken and devastated.  He is also handling it incredibly well.  I was expecting him to be suicidal, but he isn’t.  He said Judy told him to live, so he is going to do that.  Ethan and I spent the night with him when we came back from the hospital.  He surprised us both by saying he wanted to take us out to breakfast the next morning.  We went to Zaidy’s one of their favorites, and spent the morning talking about how wonderful Judy was, and sharing stories of her.  Dad moves fluidly between crying deeply (very healthy I think) to remembering and celebrating her.  He needs a lot of help right now, both physically and emotionally, so we are not leaving him alone.  Ethan is there 24-7 until Sunday night, Shira and I are alternating days coming in as well, cooking, holding, loving and being with him.  Nicole is flying out on Wednesday, and will move in to the apartment for a month to take care of him.

Long term, I think dad is going to move back to Boulder and move in downstairs.  He told me that Judy had often made him promise not to be a burden to his children when he aged.  I told him that wasn’t Judy’s choice to make, and that we all loved him very much and would rather have him with us than not.  I also told him that having him in Boulder would actually be easier than driving an hour each way every time he needed help (which has been pretty much daily for a long while now). He agreed that he thinks it is a good idea.  He likes being in the apartment and being reminded of Judy, and we will let him enjoy that for as long as he wants, and as he continues to heal and strengthen. ”  ~Paul Barchilon

Judy and I were about as different as two women can be, on the outside. I’m large, she was petite. I’m loud, she was soft-spoken. How we are the same has to do with our love for our families and our tremendous interest and desire to love and honor those who are part of our lives. Judy always made sure each member of the family had “special” time with my father. When I came to visit, she’d make sure my father and I always had our own dates together. She also made sure, the two of us did as well. We would get mani-pedi’s together and walk around their neighborhood. I could never keep up with her, she was the fastest walker I ever knew. She’s outpaced us all now, walking on the other side, with no encumbrances. I just put up the hummingbird feeder outside my kitchen window, in honor of her. She was a hummingbird, giving joy and full of nectar, she came in a small package but had an enormous heart and wow, what a great flyer! She is and will be missed.

As Judy was taking her last breaths she told my father to go on living, to not give up. She knew him so well. To honor her, he is making that effort. So, even from the other side, Judy is helping my father and giving him to us, once again. 

Papa.Judy.chez Paul
My father and Judy at my brother’s home many years ago, dancing, laughing and loving.

Gevurah, Grounding and Getting To It

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The Tree Bark, Beautiful and Boundaried

This is the week of Gevurah/Din, which I cannot easily translate. Here are some ways to think about Gevurah: Judgement, Severity, Boundaries, Strength, Discipline, and the Angel Gavriel/Gabriel, whose name shares the same root. Gavriel is the angel on the left side of our bodies, who girds us with strength and protects us.

When I say this is the week of Gevurah, that needs explaining as well. Starting on the second day of Pesach/Passover, observant Jewish folks count the Omer. We count seven cycles of seven, which = 49 and then in the evening of that last day, it’s another day, the 50th day and this is the holiday of Shavuot. Shavuot is about the first grain (Wheat) offering, it’s a pilgrimage festival, like Pesach and Sukkot. It’s also considered to be the anniversary of when the Torah was given on Mt. Sinai and so we stay up all night studying Torah, specifically the Book of Ruth, but all of this is weeks away.

Right now, we are in the second week of the seven and each week is linked to the lower seven Sephirot/Energies/Attributes of the Divine, on the Tree of Life. Last week was Hesed/Loving-Kindness, this week is Gevurah. Gevurah and I have been connecting only in the last few years of my life. Prior to a conscious choice on my part to get into balance and make serious changes in my life and the way I engage with the world, most folks who knew me in the past would laugh and say: “Boundaries and Nicole, in the same sentence or space, that’s an Oxymoron”

Tree of Life

The Panoply of Symbols for the Sefirot

The Kabbalah assigns every symbol to one or more of the Sefirot. Here is a list of some of the many symbols and correspondences one can find. It comes from Dr. Eliezer Siegel in Calgary. Each of the following lists for each Sefirah is found on Jewish Virtual Library under the name of the Sefirah. Nava Shoham (1-800-ketubah.com) collated all of these entries onto one page, which I’ve reproduced here (using some of her font colors) with some corrections. This image of the Sefirot here is found all over the web. I’ve added directions and some alternate names in yellow to the image. If anyone knows the source or artist please let me know….Rabbi David Seidenberg

 

Please visit Neohasid.org for a fuller description of all of these teachings. I cannot do the Sefirot justice here. I do want to talk about the work of Gevurah and my engagement with it. Fundamentally, we have all these energies in us, available to us and truly we can find and move into balance. It is not beyond us. This task, this work of counting the Omer is always complex, but it allows me daily engagement with specific energies. By paying attention and counting, literally and also figuratively, I attune myself to the Divine, to the world and to my deeper and truest self.

So, onto the Gevurah, Grounding and Getting to it! As an Empath (see Isn’t It Always Love) I feel it all and I have struggled to have any kind of boundary. I’m extremely grateful for this Omer practice and for the teachings of the Tree of Life, because they have enabled me to seek out and gain some semblance of relationship to the boundaries I needed to cultivate. For me, implicit, in the idea of a boundary, is that I am not creating a hard wall to keep anyone or anything out. I am engaged in creating a porous, but still strong web or fluid that surrounds me, or whatever needs surrounding. It is not a hard boundary.

I have very few hard boundaries, I’m not a hard person.

Nicole Clare Red dress pre.final mikveh
Me, in Ireland, surrounded by my companions, the trees and the river and the fire. This is right before my last Irish Mikveh/Immersion in Living Waters in the very cold water just behind me.

My Gevurah practice is about getting grounded in the earth, recognizing that all of creation has structure of some sort and that this structure is necessary and good. The tree is surrounded by bark, the stem of the flower is a tube carrying nutrients from ground to flower, the seed has a hard shell around it until conditions are right for it to break open. All of these are examples of Gevurah in the world. A boundary that allows life and bounty to unfold.

My own boundaries are like these, I have had to create a boundary circle around certain areas of my life in order to live my life. For my Jubilee year, I took a nine month retreat, this was a boundary circle around interaction with other people, with caring for others and with feeling and doing for others. (You can read all about this is the Jubilee section of this blog)

The majority of people in my life, my children, my family, my friends, my colleagues were outside of my circle, I was inside of it with the Holy One and Creation. I was isolated, in a cabin in Western Ireland, at a Carmelite Hermitage called Holy Hill. I was not alone. The birds, the Angels, the Divine and I were in communion. The ivy on the trees, the flowing river outside my window, the stars and the wind, these were my companions. They were great companions.

I was also blessed with fellow hermits and retreatants who were on similar journeys of contemplation, stillness and engagement with what emerges when you aren’t on the treadmill of the world. We prayed in silence together and shared a common meal once a week, when and if we wanted to be with others. Sometimes, I felt called to being with others, sometimes not. My boundaries are always flexible, this is how I do Gevurah.

My friend Arieh David Scharnberg asked this question on FB:

Looking for advice:

This is the week of Gevurah in the Omer Counting, usually associated with ‘discipline.’

How do you practice self-discipline in ways you can commit to and in ways that don’t induce stress?

What I mean is, every time I think about ‘ok, I need to get more organized’ or ‘I need to be more focused at work’ or ‘I need to do x or y once a day,’ even if it is taking things one step at a time and breaking things into smaller increments, any time I think of a change in my behavior that requires a commitment to that change, I either feel incredible anxiety in trying to commence (a fear of failure) or at best resigned if not despair when I find I have an inability to maintain that change.

Thank you in advance for your wisdom and insights!

This post is my answer to him. Gevurah requires grounding, earth-based practice that is rooted and  attended to, in order for it to be lasting. This doesn’t mean all my boundaries now stay in a permanent fixed place or that my discipline is perfect. It means that I get better all the time at walking this walk and engaging with this energy. It’s a practice, not a goal that I will reach and cross the finish line where a throng of folks will be cheering. It’s subtle and continuous and small sometimes, even just one small action will create a shift in my direction that allows the boundary to get stronger.

And, here’s the thing about all of this, right now we have to pair each of these energies/sefirot with others. We take the week we are in, this week it is Gevurah and align it with each of the other seven, so today, as I write this, I am in the week of Gevurah paired with the Sefira of Tiferet (glory, beauty, harmony). So, how do I relate to these two qualities? Here, in Jamestown at the home of my sister by Love, I am secluded, boundaried. I have taken myself away from the hustle and bustle of my family’s current crisis. I am not needed in this moment, my brother and others are doing the work that needs doing. I am preparing for Shabbat, which is a boundary I observe EVERY week, a time of stillness and honoring of Tiferet in my life, when I actively court the Divine and rest in many, many ways. But, I couldn’t do this if I didn’t create the boundary. Many folks now understand this about me. People no longer expect anything from me on Saturdays or Friday night. I don’t get phone calls or even many emails and I don’t respond to them either as I mostly turn off my technologies that are external and focus on my spiritual relationships.

My Shabbat practice is a Gevurah practice linked with Tiferet and all the other elements on the tree, but it starts with creating the boundary circle around this day, every week and I get better and better at it. I can go outside the boundary, when I need to, or choose to, again, the boundaries are never going to be hard and brittle for me, that’s not who I am. This Gevurah gate in my life has allowed me to create others because there has been and continues to be so much value generated and present for me as a result.

So, whether you practice this very intense and complicated counting or you are just looking at ways to feel protected, boundaried, held in by a structure that is healthy and supportive, I encourage you to go outside, meditate on the bark of a tree or the stem of a flower. Take the time you need to create spaciousness for yourself in any area that you need to by creating a boundary that is real and healing and healthy between yourself and the forces that love to pull you and all of us off our center.

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Heart at the bottom of a tree. Photo taken by my husband while we were on a walk together in Humboldt County, where we live, love, find and hopefully create harmony and balance, for ourselves and for all those we encounter.

 

 

 

Pointed, Prickly and Profound Pesach/Passover

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This is where I spent the first night of Pesach up Sugarloaf road in Boulder, Colorado. I had planned to be with my dear friends in Oregon, but life intervened. My 94-year-old father fell and broke his hip and then two days after his hip-replacement surgery had a minor heart-attack. I flew out here to help my brother and family navigate all of this.

My father, never at ease, with care or emotions, was very upset to see me when I first got here. He requested that I not come into his room alone. He said that I was “too emotional” and my presence distressed him. I was actually expecting this, because this is his default around me and emotions. I refrain from all emotional expressions around him and have for years. But, he was so uncomfortable and unhappy already, my presence served as a reminder that things were dire or difficult.

I am the person folks usually want around them when they are sick, 99% of the time. Folks love when I bring food to them, help them navigate tests, hospital staff, doctors, end of life care issues and everything in between. I am regularly consulted, and in the company of folks who are not well in hospital and home situations. It’s something I do from my heart with confidence and skill. The fact that my father denies me the opportunity to give to him, in the ways I am most able to, is one more opportunity for me to grow.

My Mussar/Jewish Ethical practices and teachings ask us to look at whatever is present in our world as our “spiritual homework.” This idea works for me because I am someone who tries to address whatever is difficult as an opportunity. I am not always successful in this, but I do use this concept as a framework for my life.

So, my brother, his partner, my daughter, various other family members and I have been trying to do a very complex dance. There are lots of steps behind the scenes and various curtains opening and closing, in sync hopefully, and lots of improvisation. I have respected my father’s wishes, for the most part. I found that he was open to good soups and foods, which I could make for him and send with my brother. This worked for a little while and then it was “too much fuss” and “too much foods,” even though it was a small box in the hospital patient refrigerator with some cheese, yogurt, olives and soup.

My father asked where I was several times when my brother came to spend time with him and my brother reminded him that he had told me not to come. I spent my pre-Passover time cleaning my brother and my daughter’s homes and kitchens and cooking for them and my father to support all of them, behind the scenes. I drive my brother into Denver frequently, and stay in the waiting area, and try to make it easier for my brother to handle all he is handling. It’s a family affair with one person on center stage looking like he is doing it all, my brother, but there are lots of things going on in the background.

This element of caring for folks, whether they are old, or not, is critical to understand. It is often the case that only one member of a family or friend grouping will be the one the person who is not well feels the most comfortable with. It’s important to not take it personally when you aren’t the person wanted. I know this intellectually, emotionally it’s another story.

So, I have cried, done a phone session with my therapist, gone to multiple services at Bonai Shalom and been on the phone with my husband and sisters and others and processed. I’ve gotten massaged at Siam Sensation, my favorite place in town and gone swimming and taken walks in the woods. I don’t swallow poison or hurt, when I am awake and aware. I take my pain to the Holy One, to my support crew of friends and family and to my sister’s grave as well. I lay it all out and down and work on trusting that my love and care will be of help and that someday it will all make sense or improve.

Heads together Paula Grave
My brother and I at our sister’s grave. It’s a place of healing and calm for me always. See More than One, for more thoughts on my sister and I and grave-side practices.

Everyone is unique in how they navigate illness and stress and difficulty. There is no cookie-cutter form that works every time. Patience and calm and trust are always great tools to have if you can figure out how to have them in a crisis, no small task. Even though my father was reticent initially to my arriving and my involvement, he has warmed up to me and to my help. My presence makes a difference for the other folks in this situation. It’s not what I thought I’d be doing, on the other hand, this is what is.

How this relates to Pesach and Passover is also relevant. We look at all the ways we enslave others and are enslaved at this time of year. We look at all the things that are leaven in our lives, all that puffs us up and that is not necessary. Our pride, our lack of awareness about the suffering of others, our over-consumption, our fear and our lack of faith are all examples of things we need to look at deeply. We always tell the story in the present tense and we are not only reminded once, but repeatedly, over and over and over, that the Exodus is not something that happened once. Our story is something that is currently happening and that is happening for us and for refugees and folks in bondage everywhere right now.

We live the story in this moment.

So, in my now, having to traverse the territory of my pride around my ability to care for folks in need, I can see it as one more form of leaven in my life. Ceding the care-giving to my brother and taking a back-seat, that’s not my normal setting, nor is it easy for me, but I can and am doing it. Letting go of my childhood pain and sense of rejection around my Papa is also a way to liberate myself further from things that I no longer need to be tied up in knots about.

My father loves me, he has never, and will never understand me. Big deal, what’s new? This is the story for so many people. While it is painful, I am not alone, I am not three or twelve. I’m fifty-two years old. I have a plethora of folks who do understand me and don’t reject me. My father is actually not rejecting me, he’s rejecting having to feel things that he doesn’t have the energy or ability to handle. I represent emotions and feelings to him, I hold that space in his mind and in his experience. Just being around me stimulates him in ways that are not comfortable for him. He still thinks I should be a lawyer, which is just beyond laughable.

Soup, I can send him, through another person, that works. Yesterday, I felt a strong call, on the second day of Pesach, about ten days into my visit here, to go see him. So, I called him, he is now at a rehabilitation facility.  I asked him if I could come for a brief visit and bring him some maztoh ball soup that my friend, a former student of his, had made. He said, come visit, but no soup, and only if I was already in Denver. I lied and said I was, but that it would be a few hours before I arrived. I drove in, during rush hour to see him. It took an hour and a half to get there and an hour to get home. When I got to his room he said: “I’m going to make you very happy and let you rub my feet.” This is something I’ve offered before, when visiting with him, but that he’d always refused.

So, I washed and massaged Papa’s feet, which felt good for both of us. While I was there, the Executive Director came in and asked how things were going. My father said “fine,” but then started to complain about the food. He then he raved about the tomato basil soup he’d had at the hospital and said they should hire away the cook at the hospital. This was funny to me, since he’d complained about the food there to my brother. I told the director to just have the kitchen always put some lemon on my father’s tray and that would help him enjoy whatever he was eating.

A little later, dinner was served and the cook came up. My father apologized profusely for complaining to the director and the cook assured my father, that he wanted to provide the best meal possible for him and that it was his job to do so. He asked my father where he was from originally and my father said: “France, we are French, from Morocco originally.” The cook said: “I’m from Palestine, I’m Palestinian.”

I immediately said “Salaam Aleicum,” and he shook my hand and said Aleicum Salaam and smiled. Jews and Muslims share this form of greeting. We say Shalom Aleichem, they say Salaam Aleicum, both of these things mean the same thing, Peace To You, and the response is Alecheim Shalom or Aleicum Salaam, which means To You Peace.

My father then said it was a “bloody ridiculous mess” in Israel and Palestine and that all the bloodshed and arguing was wrong. The cook didn’t say anything more to this. I shook his hand again and thanked him in Arabic, “shukran, shukran.” He smiled and departed. There was lemon on the tray they brought my Papa for dinner. And, of course, he would have preferred the soup my friend had made, but he’d told me not to bring it, so I hadn’t, trés typique, as we say en français.

We attend to the details of Passover more intensely than any other holiday. It is considered of benefit to go longer, go deeper, do more, make things sparkle or have more meaning, discuss it differently, cook more dishes, clean more, and in general go a little crazy in your preparations and expressions for this holiday. So, likewise, with my father in his situation, the details are maddening, complex and continuously shifting and challenging. It requires great attention to detail and flexibility.

I’m blessed to have a family that has consummate skills in this area. So, as we wander in this new wilderness, this place that is wholly different from what we are comfortable and familiar with, we look around us and see we are not alone. We are helping each other along, we are laughing, we are crying and we are falling down and picking each other up. We are finding ways to do what needs doing in the face of complex emotions and situations.

Let me be very clear as well, it’s horrifying to me, when I think about how hard and how much work we are doing for my father, who has health-insurance, who is in clean and calm facilities, who has children who can afford to drive or fly in to help. What is horrifying about this, is that so many folks don’t have this kind of support or care. The vast majority of people in the world, who are suffering all over this world, don’t have the resources or the facilities that my father does. My father is an American but he wasn’t born here. He emigrated here after World War II. He got his college education here in the 1950s and became a French professor at CU Boulder. He worked for over thirty years there and planned intelligently for his retirement. He found his truest love at the age of 75 and has been happily married to her for almost twenty years now.

  1. How can my situation, which is challenging, but not horrific help me to be a better person?
  2. What can I do differently so that the suffering of others is lessened?
  3. Where are there places in my life that I can explore further that will enable me to be freer to give with my whole heart and serve the Divine more fully?
  4. How can I release what constricts and binds me so that I am truly free to show up for exactly what needs showing up for?

These are my four questions for this holiday, not the typical ones, but they are the ones I’m wrestling with. May your forays into this Holy Spring Time, whether you are Jewish, Christian, Pagan, Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist or any other stripe or way of connecting to this Wholly and Holy Amazing world, be full of joy and thoughtful contemplation. May you find your way out of whatever binds you, into full-on service to what needs doing and what is for the good.

You are not alone!

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The altar I made for my father the day I learned about his hip fracture. The wine, in the center, is for us to drink to his health, the photos are of my father and my daughter, my father and his mother, my father and his wife and two of my favorite angel images. The bowl holding the candle is the bottom of a Moroccan couscoussier and one of my brother Paul Barchilon’s ceramic coasters is holding the light.

Terrific Turmeric, Carrot, Ginger, Cabbage Kim-Chi

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Turmeric, Carrots, Salt, Ginger, & Cabbage, minus the cayenne.

Ingredients: One to two cabbages (any kind will do, savoy, regular, purple, whatever rocks your cabbage boat), a large root of ginger, several carrots, a large root of turmeric, one or two teaspoons good salt (see Let’s Talk Salt), cayenne if you want it spicy, large Mason jar, a heavy rock that fits in the jar and one large cabbage leaf that is not sliced up.

This is easy to make, just time consuming and messy. I like to slice things very fine, because the more surface area is exposed the more flavor is released. It’s best to use a large glass or ceramic bowl, metal and this recipe do not make good alchemy together. Slice everything up thin and fine, for the turmeric and ginger, peel and chop very small.

Combine all the ingredients together and use your hands to mix and squeeze the ingredients. This releases the liquid, since the salt pulls it out of the ingredients. Once you’ve squeezed/mixed this stuff together you will fill the jar you have and pack down the ingredients as tightly as you can. Wrap the rock in the large cabbage leaf and place it on top of the packed Kim-Chi.

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Rock wrapped in whole cabbage leaf on top of Kim-Chi.

Then seal the jar and place it somewhere cool, not your fridge though, for two weeks or more. Once you’ve opened it, then you will need to refridgerate it. If your climate is warm, then refridgerate it, but let it sit for longer.

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1/2 gallon Mason Jar of Kimchi, using two small cabbages, three carrots and the ginger and turmeric, it shrinks once you salt and squeeze.

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This is the same photo as the first picture, but with the cayenne added, ’cause I always want it spicy!