Tag Archives: blind blogger

Paddling a Submarine vs. Living an Authentic Life 

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Last night I dreamed I was paddling a canoe up a lake in the middle of the night. It was calm, I felt peaceful, yet there was one concern. The canoe was underwater. I was trying to paddle a submarine.

I’ve spent years listening to my dreams, paying attention to patterns, weighing the emotions of dreams with respect to my life at the moment. I believe larger forces speak to me in that unconscious world, forces that can guide me to awareness of deeper truths. This pushes me to wonder, why was I paddling a submarine?

I know there are many ways to interpret dreams, but ultimately, I tend to accept that my dreams are about me. Over the years, I’ve noticed that when I’m honest about how I feel in my dreams, they have given me clues to parts of me I needed to pay attention to.

Paddling a submarine. I feel this dream was about my need to live an authentic life. Paddling the canoe was me moving forward in life. My goal was to get to the end of the lake, to a state of inner peace, but I was struggling because I was keeping my emotions below the surface. If I would allow my feelings to express themselves above the water, I would have less resistance to life and my journey would be immensely easier.

I need to be genuine, original, true and trustworthy, and not be in fear of what the world may think of me in my many moments of  smallness.

Authenticity means to be honest, to be vulnerable, to take risks. Authenticity is built one day, one choice, at a time. It is a process of continually stepping out of my comfort zone and engaging the world from a place of worthiness vs. shame.

Authenticity is a daily journey into the wilderness of being fully alive.

What’s the greater risk I ask myself? Living life based on what other people think, or being vibrantly alive based on how I feel, what I believe, and who I am?

This blog, “Travels with Tio, a blind writer’s path to happiness,” is my journey, my choice, to be all of me, fully alive. It is one way I will raise myself from paddling a submarine, to paddling a canoe, to perhaps even flying.

What does authenticity mean to you? How does it affect your life?

Please share your feelings on being the authentic “you”.

tio Stib

2013, 2017, 2018

Brene’ Brown recently gave a TED talk, “Listening to Shame,” in which she explores the challenges of authenticity. Brown believes authenticity is a process, a series of choices we make in our lives, choices made each day, in each moment, to be real…or not.

Here’s the link: http://www.cnn.com/2012/04/15/opinion/brown-authentic-self/index.html?hpt=op_bn2

 

Lumpy Gravy, Thoughts on Writing Well

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I’m working on the rewrite of a chapter in a new book and in spite of hours of effort, when I pause to listen to what I’ve written, it sounds like lumpy gravy.

Yes, I realize that gravy doesn’t talk, sing, or make any other noise, but it still seems the perfect metaphor for my imperfect words. In case you’re not familiar with gravy and, in particular, lumpy gravy, a brief description-

Gravy is a sauce made from cooked meat juices, stock, and other ingredients. One ingredient is flour, which is used to thicken the sauce. When the flour is added incorrectly, the result is lumpy gravy, little balls of unmixed flour in the sauce, a culinary no-no. Like good writing, I believe creating good gravy, a sumptuously smooth sauce, is a combination of rigorous practicality and delicate art.

My own experience is that lumpy gravy usually results from hurrying, compromising time and care because of impatience, setting an unrealistic timeline for creating something that simply cannot be rushed. There is a proper order and way to add and mix ingredients. don’t do this and you get lumps.

what are the lumps in my writing? Words and phrases that don’t sound right, feel out of place, don’t fit the desired style, don’t truly support the theme. Adverbs and adjectives that were easy to insert but, upon reflection, don’t add anything. 

What I write seldom comes out smooth and lump free the first time. Admittedly, I rarely succeed at creating lump free gravy either. In cooking, there are two ways to fix this, stir or whisk much more, or, something few will admit to, strain the gravy through a sieve to remove the lumps. 

This is what rewriting is all about, the writer’s process of removing the lumps from his work through careful consideration, in my case, listening as I can’t see what I’ve written. Often I brainstorm words, sentences, even paragraphs. with the magic power of today’s word processing technology and my text reader friend, Alex voiceOver, I can quickly try and listen to many options, until I hear something that is smooth and feels right. And on I move to the next paragraph.

Ultimately, I’m the cook in my word kitchen and I know, that unless what I’ve written passes my taste test, unless I’ve taken the time, done the work, to make perfect, lump free, gravy, those words can’t leave the kitchen.

tio stib
2018, 2019, 2021

You might also enjoy: Writing Well

My Garden of Words

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there is a porch 
in my mind’s quiet place 
broad, shaded, open 
where I sit and look out 
at my garden of words 

listening 
enjoying 
watching words waving 
in the gentle breeze of memories 
each seed 
an echo 

of planting 
caring 
weeding 
hoping 

waiting 

wondering 

would faith be rewarded 
would something glorious appear 

sometimes
unexpected beauty blossomed 
sometimes 
no matter the effort expended 
new life never sprouted 

yet still I garden with words 
planting, caring, hoping 
sitting on my porch each day 
marveling at the miracle 
of creativity 

tio stib
2019, 2020

You might also enjoy: River of Words, Life Journey Poems & Prose

Weather Systems of the Mind

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I pause and know

they come
demons of darkness
black clouds
in this season of storms

valkyries

naked

my soul is lashed
bashed by fear
drowned in disappointment
chilled by frigid failure
stunned by thunderous disapproval
stumbling in the cacophony of screaming doubt

lost

I pray to survive
this weather system of the mind

tio stib

2019

You might also enjoy: Promise, Life Journey Poems & Prose

My Dementia Diary 80 – Teeter Tottering

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Have you ever been on a teeter totter, that long board balanced in the middle where kids sit at opposite ends and bounce each other up and down? If the two kids’ weights are about equal they can take turns levering the other into the air. However, if one kid is much heavier, the lighter one can find himself stuck up in the sky.

That’s me right now, stuck up in the air, in teeter totter purgatory, because my wife’s needs are overwhelming my own and I can’t get my feet back on the ground.

When I started this solo caregiving gig with my dementia afflicted wife, she was still quite functional. She could take care of her personal hygiene, lose herself for hours in painting projects, and sleep through the night. Then, painting became too complicated and we switched to coloring books. Now even coloring simple designs is more than her mind can handle and she constantly turns to me for attention.

Her nighttime neediness has also increased. Once a sound sleeper, she now gets up repeatedly and prods me awake to help her find and use the bathroom, to change clothes, to calm and comfort her after nightmares. This new pattern deprives me of needed rest, leaving me tired and less able to meet the increasing demands for her daytime entertainment.

The balance of my wife’s needs and my own is way out of whack. I need to get some heavy help for my side of the teeter totter. Once more, it’s time to adapt.

tio stib

You might also enjoy: Yours to Count On, My Dementia Diary

Do It Anyway – Mother Teresa

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I offer the following words from Mother Teresa as a source of inspiration in difficult moments-

for children in Calcutta:

              People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered.  Forgive them anyway.

            If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.  Be kind anyway.

            If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies.  Succeed anyway.

           If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you.  Be honest and sincere anyway.

            What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight.  Create anyway.

            If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous.  Be happy anyway.

            The good you do today, will often be forgotten.  Do good anyway.

         Give the best you have, and it will never be enough.  Give your best anyway.

         In the final analysis, it is between you and God.  It was never between you and them anyway.

-this version is credited to Mother Teresa. It is thought to have been based on “The Paradoxical Commandments” by Dr. Kent Keith.

 

You might also enjoy: A Child’s Smile , If

My Dementia Diary 69 – 6501

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There are about 6500 spoken languages on Planet Earth.

Based on what I heard come out of my wife’s mouth this morning, I believe there are now 6501.

“Tu mencha ki mo laga pimo meo woo?”

Some might dismiss such an utterance as mindless babble, but as she seemed to be waiting expectantly for an answer, I pondered what I’d just heard.

One possibility is that dementia had restructured her brain’s neural pathways so that she is now communicating telepathically with a life form in a far away galaxy. Following this language logic, I responded-

“Fongu ma blata wo bela vandu urgono!”

I held my breath, hoping my Earthling accent had not spoiled the alien dialect.

She hugged me and turned back to her coloring book.

I smiled. My “of course I love you, dear,” response had gotten through.

Yes, it has been suggested that these strange sounds may not be attempts to communicate with extraterrestrial beings.

dementia may be scrambling my own neural pathways. My retort is-

“Bong atu singu!”

tio stib

You might also enjoy: This child Who Once Was Woman, My Dementia Diary

 

My Life as a Hummingbird

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flying, flitting, hovering
buzzing up, around
sometimes upside down
drunk with ambrosia
the sweet nectar of tropical hibiscus
the wildflower buffet of an alpine meadow
a fickle lover
of bright colored beauty

every day a road trip
a life of joyous adventure

When I’m reincarnated
I’m coming back as a hummingbird

assuming I have a say in the matter

tio stib

You might also enjoy: Jumping Off, Life Journey Poems & Prose

My Dementia Diary 68 – Imaginary People

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My wife is spending more and more time in conversations with imaginary people. We’ll be eating at the dining table and she’ll suddenly start talking to her son. As he’s in Spain, I doubt he can hear her. She’ll walk outside and begin babbling with an unseen audience in the garden. Perhaps I’m being presumptive, perhaps she does see the people who are not there. She’ll be sitting at her desk working on a coloring project and I’ll hear her sharing drawings with her mother, who is watching television in Mexico.

At first, these conversations bothered me, feeling like another downward step with her deteriorating dementia. Then, I considered the positive side of such conversations-

First, one can have these conversations whenever one pleases, no waiting for family to call or a neighbor to knock on the door.

Next, by initiating such interactions, one gets to choose the subject of the conversation. And no need to wait until someone finishes their boring monologue before you jump in.

Also, these imaginary people, whether they be a parent, a friend, or a world famous celebrity , are going to listen to you, no matter what.

Equally important, if you don’t like the feedback you’re getting from these folks, you can simply abandon them without feeling rude or guilty. Heck, it’s your imagination.

I think my wife has adopted a perfectly reasonable strategy for dealing with a reality that does not fulfill her needs. She simply creates one that does.

If you don’t like your reality, make a new one. Seems like some wise person has already pointed this out, but please let this be my “ah ha” moment as I’m in need of some self gratification.

Do you think this blog and pretending that imaginary people all over the world care enough about me to listen to my thoughts is a similar alternate reality exercise?

Hey, it’s my delusion and I’m hanging on to it.

tio stib

You might also enjoy: Control Freaking, My Dementia Diary

 

My Dementia Diary 66 – Retreating

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For months, we’ve been retreating, letting go, moving on, saying “adios” to activities, friendships, and family events that no longer fit us.

I say “we’ve been retreating,” but, in truth, it’s only me.

 there is usually a moment of realization, a painful awareness that our life no longer matches up with the lives of others. I decide to stop attending a particular gathering because the combination of my blindness and my wife’s diminishing attention span makes it awkward for us to participate. I decide to avoid family get togethers because the adults can’t deal with my babbling wife and the kids find us boring. I stop visiting friends because my wife’s constant need for attention makes conversation with others impossible.

More and more, we are by ourselves in our small world. Yes, we are fortunate that this world is comfortable, safe, and offers us pleasant opportunities to walk amidst beautiful surroundings. We are also fortunate that there are a few warm hearted, compassionate folks who welcome us into their lives. Still, I can’t pretend that I don’t find this retreat process depressing. 

More and More, I feel like I’m backing into the future, spending more time looking behind than ahead, thinking more about all the things we can no longer do, than appreciating the possibilities we still have.

Yes, I have an attitude problem. I am still struggling with letting go of what blindness keeps me from doing and accepting the reality of my wife’s dementia. In dark moments, find comfort in the stories of other bloggers in similar situations and their supportive feedback.

I have survived and grown through many perilous and difficult times and trust these experiences have prepared me for the challenges I now face.

But I’ve never climbed a mountain like this before.

tio stib

You might also enjoy: Which Mountain to Climb?, My Dementia Diary