Merle's Blog

Insights and Outsights

From anxiety to inspiration

Posted by Merle Levin on September 14, 2011

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Dr Hew Len is a doctor who inspires me. He healed his patients by working on himself with remarkable success.  I think of him in the long dark silence of my night as I sit at home thinking about my mother in hospital, struggling for her life.  I turn to him in my minds-eye and ask: what advice do you have for me, Dr. Hew Len?  How can I  work on myself to help my mother? I hear his words: We have two choices always, he says.  To go to the data of memories, or to go to inspiration. If you find your mind is hooked on the databank of old thinking, say this mantra – I love you, I’m sorry, please forgive me.  Try to turn your thoughts to inspiration and let this cleanse you. The old data holds a mortgage on your soul, he says.

I’m sitting here in the dark, trying to turn myself from anxiety to inspiration.  It  feels like trying to turn an old car without power steering.  I had a Datsun once, who exemplified that kind of refusal – the cold early mornings were the worst.  It battled against me, it’s wheels fighting to be opposite. “Use love not force” he whispers, that illusive Dr. Len in my mind. So, I do, I write this in real-time – isn’t that what a blog is supposed to be?  Raw and honest and  now? I’m using this forum and you who read this, to help me turn myself from anxiety to inspiration.  You who read this, like it or not, have become part of my process.  Perhaps you might have use for this sometime in your life, in which case, I will then become part of your process.  Is this how inspiration works?

I drove my grandchild to school yesterday morning early, before I went to the hospital.  He was buried in a story on my Kindle and it took some power steering to persuade him to leave his electronic page for a few minutes and connect with me.  Dvorac was playing and I wanted him to hear his New World Symphony.  This man was homesick and lonely, I said.  He wrote a story out of those feelings in music. Do I really have to listen? He moaned.  Yes, I said firmly.  Just for a few minutes, listen to how he worked with his feelings in such an amazing way.  He wrote a story for all of us to be inspired by.  It took some power steering to turn his attention to the music, and I watched his little body move from resistance to relaxation as he received the sound filling our car.

Thank you Dvorac, I say, in this dark hour of silence, broken only by the sound of rain pelting at my windows and the sound of my keyboard responding to the sound of my mind melting.

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11 Responses to “From anxiety to inspiration”

  1. Lynne said

    Thank you for the inspiration to use the mantra I love you, I’m sorry, please forgive me……..being anywhere, getting on with daily life, doing the school run, when a loved one is fighting for life in a hospital is an effort of will we don’t want to be living through. Easing passages, letting the rope slowly and lovingly fall into the boat as it starts to move away from the shore, is painful. Letting a parent go is especially hard, the last link with our childhood, all the range of emotions that entails. We have no choice, life, and the school run, must go on……………..

    As you said, “I love you , I’m sorry, please forgive me…………….I’m thinking of you and your mum, and sending much love for the journey.

    On a practical note, we encourage our grandson to watch ” Little Einsteins ‘ a Disney type cartoon which has good references to Classical music and art, and its delightful to hear him humming Dvorjac New World………..

  2. Jorunn Fjeld said

    Dear Merle!
    “To turn from anxiety to inspiration feels like trying to turn an old car without a power steering” – I am thinking how well we all can relate to that precise metaphore.

    Feeling helpless in your own chaotic mind, watching your loved ones struggeling and suffering,not knowing what to do making the pain go away,at least to be able to ease and comfort……

    For me was the worst part not to be able to beeing there with him, my father, and leaving my baby-brother(he is 44:-)) alone with the responsibility to take care of our father in his last ours. My other brother coming over from Canada made it in time to say goodbye, I, however, was one hour too late. But in our last telephonecall, I said that I loved him. I am not sure whether it got through to him, but I like to belive that he listened – and now- a few months later- I like to believe that he is still listening, reminding me to live more,to fear less. But it has been hard, as you say:In “this dark hour of silence”.

    This poem,which you read to us in Italy a couple of years has been an tremendous comfort and inspiration in this process, as I read it in my fathers funeral;

    Do not stand at my grave and weep
    I am not there, I do not sleep
    I am a thousand winds that blow
    I am the diamond glints on snow
    I am the sunlight on ripened grain
    I am the gentle autumn rain
    When you awaken in the morning´s hush,
    I am the swift uplifting rush
    of quiet birds in circled flight.
    I am the soft stars that shine at night.
    Do not stand at my grave and cry.
    I am not there; I did not die.

    My father also loved music and a couple of months before he passed,I came over an old Australian tune where the lyrics has been beautifully transelated to Norwegian (nynorsk) an knew instantly that these are the words my father. This was his song. This was he who he was.And it was. He couldn`t stop playing it. (He had Alzheimer`s in the end and could not express himself as he used to). And we played it for him in his funeral. In Norwegian It`s called : (Sondre Bratland:”Syng meg heim” ( English:”Sing me home”).

    Music and human connection are some of important things (and for you: your grand children:-))can truly break silence and bringing us back into our on going life or even make us change rooms open doors and create new paths in this sensational World of Life.

    Thank you for sharing anxiety and inspiriation -and know that I think of you,your family and your mother.

    • Thank you so much for your beautiful words and inspiring thoughts. I think of you too! I know you face many challenges with your big open heartedness. Perhaps we will yet be in a Norwegian language process together when the time is right? My love to you Jorunn

      • Jorunn Fjeld said

        Actually, right now I am having a sabbatical and with my partner in Spain, I am free to do whatever whereever I wish..I could even come to have an intensive Norwegian course in Cape Town or Italiy?? I probably go to Perugia (near Assisi) to learn Italian around in the end of September..So, yes,maybe the time is right?Just tell when me when and how…Love Jorunn

  3. Pat Cameron said

    Hi Merle,
    I was sorry to hear that your mum is in hospital. I can empathsize with what you are experiencing. And I too loved the mantra and have adopted it as my own. Your blog is inspiring and beautifully written. Thinking of you, love, Pat

    • Thank you Pat. I remember what you went through some years ago and how my heart went out to you. So hard to see a mum suffer! They become so small – so like a fragile little bird. Thank goodness my mom feels a bit better today, so the sun shines brightly and i will sleep. it is one of the reasons i did not come back to Canada this year – It just felt too far from Cape Town with her in this period of her life. my love to all on Bass Lake! Miss you!

  4. Arleen said

    I am reading your entries backwards… but then – I am in Bali as I read… and I just need to say how touched I am in a deep heart way at how you are sharing -very much appreciated – thank you.
    Much love
    Arleen

  5. pia said

    Love to you and your mom. Pia

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