Season’s Greetings

I’m sorry I was missing at the end of last week and didn’t post as I normally do on Thursday.

I have been having a bit of a hard time.

Physically, I haven’t been up to par.

For the newspaper I’ve been covering a lot of court recently, some very hard cases that make me think (for a while only) that there is no goodness in the world.

And I’ve been struggling with my decisions regarding my mother.

Late last week, as I drove back to Altavista from court in Rustburg, I wondered how Christmas and the other holidays this time of year can even occur when there is so much strife and unhappiness and despair in the world.

I still put a Christmas CD on in the car, though. And I heard these words from “Who Comes This Night,” a song written by Sally Stevens and Dave Grusin and sung by James Taylor on his album “James Taylor at Christmas”:

Who sends this song upon the air,

To ease the soul that’s aching?

To still the cry of deep despair

And heal the heart that’s breaking.

-

The light and the hope of the season aren’t just for those happily getting together with family, singing carols, opening presents, and eating big meals together.

The light and the hope are for those who feel lost, those who feel sad, those who are at the point where they feel nothing.

The light and the hope remind us of the good in the world. They are comfort to those who need it.

And we all need comfort sometimes.

May all of you who celebrate a holiday this time of year enjoy the season. And may all of you have joy and peace always.

I’ll be back next Monday, Dec. 29.

Getting through the workday

This was my desk at the end of the workday Tuesday night.

Tuesday is layout day at the newspaper.

Here’s the basic process:

In the morning, the editor, the other staff writer and I may do a variety of things, including writing stories, checking on stories, making phone calls, etc. Late morning, we have a meeting with the advertising manager and decide how many pages we’ll have in the paper and, generally, what stories will go where.

The big decisions are about what goes on page one and the “second” page one, page three. Sounds confusing, but basically page three has the second-tier stories on it. If you think about opening up a newspaper, your eyes probably go to page three before they hit page two.

Then the other staff writer and I start laying out the pages. The news editor at a sister paper helps with layout, too, and the ad manager lays out the classifieds.

As we finish pages, we print out “proofs,” and the editor and proofreader start reading and marking things that need correction/adding/deleting/changing. If needed, I also read and edit.

Later, when we’ve finished laying out, the other staff writer and I make corrections, turn the pages into PDF files and print them out. The three of us editorial staff proof the pages again.

Then we send the pages to press via the Internet. The actual pressroom is an hour or more from Altavista.

This past Tuesday, we finished up at about 6 p.m. (Sometimes we’re much later if we have something to cover in the evening and then write about it.) I had to stay after to get a head start on updating the newspaper website because I need to be out of the office for part of the day Wednesday to cover a couple of trials.

I do a lot of these activities every Tuesday without even thinking about them. And sometimes—OK, often—I get stressed out. I become tense and anxious before I fully realize what has happened.

I’m trying to be more mindful these days. I did a little experiment Tuesday. I worked through the normal lunchtime wrestling with the layout. At about 3:30, I reached a stopping point and hurried out to grab something to eat. I chose something quick: McDonald’s.

Yes, my eating habits tend to spiral down on Tuesdays.

While I was waiting in the drive-thru line, which really seemed to be taking too long to get through—I realized I was getting uptight and too stressed. So I turned on the radio and put it on WVTF, the public radio station in my area, and listened to classical music.

“Maybe this will calm me down,” I thought.

And it did, a bit. It certainly made my wait a little more pleasant.

Later, back at the office, Larry came by for a few minutes. He was there to pick up something from me, but it was nice just to see his face and laugh a bit with him.

And we got the paper done. We always do.

I’m learning more and more that it’s the little things during the day that can help calm the anxiety and remind me that I don’t want to hurry through the day too fast. It’s the only day I have, after all.

Now I need to work on staying away from the fast food.

What little things do you do to get through the day as easily as possible?

**And a note about Friday. I was going to post last Friday about a special assignment I had for the paper that kept me out until the early morning hours. But the story got delayed a week. So I’ll tell you about it this Friday.

7 ways to cope in times of overwhelming anxiety

If you’ve read my blog posts this week, you know that it has been a very anxious time of late.

But even during the bad times, we can still learn or be reminded of what we’ve learned in the past.

I decided right away that I was not going to get down. And I took some steps in self-care that I believe helped me navigate new territory.

Before I go into those, though, I want to thank you for your kind words, your understanding, your caring, and your presence. Thank you so much, dear readers, for supporting me during a bad time, for reminding me that I am not alone.

And I can’t say enough about my husband. His quiet presence and his open heart are treasures for which I can never be grateful enough.

Here are some of the ways I’ve coped:

Fun reading

I’ve divided reading into two categories. The first one I call fun reading. It’s reading that you don’t “need” to do. It’s not meant for self-improvement. It’s for entertainment, enjoyment. It’s for fun.

During times when I didn’t want to think about any real-life problems, it was a pleasure to turn to reading mysteries. I read Storm Prey, by John Sandford (one of my favorites).

Now I’m reading a book called The Faithful Spy, by new-to-me author Alex Berenson. It’s wonderful. And I’ve found a new author to follow.

Helpful reading

This kind of reading is for self-improvement, though, of course, enjoyment is also part of the experience.

I got out my copy of Mindfulness for Beginners, by Jon Kabat-Zinn. I previously studied part of the book, but never finished. I started over and have gained a lot of insight into the ways our minds work and the relationship between our thoughts and reality.

Mindfulness meditation

I turn to mindfulness meditation when I try to focus my thoughts. I increased my practice in order to deal with the swirl of thoughts and feelings that were negatively affecting my moods and quality of life.

Right now I am using the CD that came with the book by Kabat-Zinn I wrote of above. It’s helpful for me right now to have a voice leading me into the meditation.

Writing

Writing is so natural for me, something I turn to in just about every situation. I wrote down some of the thoughts I had that scared me, that made me feel especially sad and guilty. A lot of what I wrote will probably never see the light of day. But just getting the words down gave them a safe place to rest, out of my constant thoughts.

Music

I’ve had a difficult time falling asleep lately. I’ve found that listening to certain music helps quiet my mind.

For times when I’m trying to relax, it’s better for me to listen to instrumental music with no words.

My favorites are Lifescapes’ “Meditations: Native American Flute” and Yoga Journal’s “Pure Relaxation.”

Visualization

I started doing this almost by accident and found that it helped me relax.

While listening to one song on “Pure Relaxation,” I started visualizing being on a boat in the ocean, right at sunset. It was almost like I was watching a movie that I was adding details to. I imagined Larry and me on the boat, the wind blowing our hair. I could see the lights on shore. The stars were starting to come out. It was a beautiful time.

With the next song, I imagined being in a cabin at night with Larry and Chase Bird. Snow was falling. We sat in chairs by the fire, reading. Then we turned off the lights so we could see the snow falling outside. Chase Bird sat on my lap for a while, then on Larry’s. We were quiet and at peace.

Now when I hear those songs, I am immediately in those places, either on the boat or in the cabin. I have found myself smiling in the dark as I visualize.

Playing with my cat

You knew I would mention Chase Bird, didn’t you? Playing with him takes me out of myself. I laugh at his antics and stay busy chasing the toy that he bats back with amazing strength and agility.

Chase Bird guarding the treat bags that he knocked off the table.

What ways do you cope with overwhelming anxiety? Please share.

Sometimes a little song helps

I keep this photograph of Chase Bird on my computer desktop at work. It's a favorite. 

A couple of weeks ago, we took Chase Bird to the vet’s office to get his rabies vaccination updated and a skin irritation checked.

We waited for a day that we could both go because Chase Bird does not like to go to the vet’s office.

He does not like to go to the vet’s office.

The last time we took him in for his rabies shot, he got away from the vet technician holding him. He ran around the exam room, and then he jumped on top of the counter, where he quickly destroyed the neat bins of empty plastic hypodermic tubes and other supplies. The countertop was a wreck by the time we caught him.

He’s been to the emergency hospital once since then, for stomach issues. He cried all the way there and all the way home.

Two weeks ago, he cried in the car on the way to the vet’s and continued into the office. We talked to him, trying to soothe him, but it didn’t do any good.

While we waited in the exam room, Chase huddled in the back of the carrier, wailing. Finally, I started to sing.

Chase Bird, Chase Bird,

You’re our little boy.

Papa loves you so,

Mama loves you too,

You’re our little boy . . . .

And on and on, making it up as I went.

Chase Bird’s eyes got bigger. He cried a bit, but more softly. His little shoulders, held up high, lowered. He moved up to the front of the carrier where Larry and I could reach his chin to scratch.

When I stopped singing, he started crying again. So I kept singing.

Until the vet and her assistant came in. Then he wasn’t interested in my singing.

Despite his noise and resistance, the vet examined him. We told her how Chase Bird has been licking his stomach and back legs so much that his fur has gotten thinner there.

His licking started soon after we gave him full range of the house last fall. We had to keep him and Sam separated, though they saw each other and interacted through a gate.

After Sam died, his whole routine changed. Our vet agrees that the loss of Sam and the new environment could be making him anxious.

We’re also looking at a possible allergy, making some adjustments in his diet.

He seems to be licking less. He continues to hang out with us and enjoys playing. He still spends at least part of the night sleeping on my feet.

We want to get a couple of diffusers to use for the pheromones that soothe some cats’ anxiety. We try to create a peaceful environment for him.

And I think he likes his Mama to sing to him.

Do you ever sing to your pets?

Music from the past

Last week while I was down in the basement organizing, I found some things I thought I had lost forever.

I thought I had lost my first piano book and the program from my first piano recital. But I found both.

When I was a little girl, I started picking out tunes on our Kurtzmann upright piano. I remember playing “Jesus Loves Me.”

Surprisingly, my mother discouraged my playing. She didn’t want me to play by ear. She wanted me to play by note. She herself could play by ear, but she hadn’t taken lessons long enough to learn a lot and regretted that.

I remember waiting until she went outside to do something like hang out the laundry. I’d run to the piano and plink out a song until she came back in. I thought I was doing this in secret. I found out years later that she, of course, heard me but didn’t say anything.

She talked with a local piano teacher. I was 5 years old, and this teacher usually waited to begin lessons once a child started school. But she said she’d see what I could learn.

So I started lessons. And I kept taking them until I was 12, when I started organ lessons for a year.

I had to write out the letters for each of the notes. 

My teacher wrote her instructions for me right on the book. A circle meant to practice the piece. She marked through it once it was played well enough to move on.

I had to memorize this one. I also had to memorize my piece for the recital.

A week shy of my sixth birthday, I played in my first recital. I played a song called “Voice of My Heart.” I don’t have that sheet music anymore, but I can still play a little of it by ear.

I did a Google search but couldn’t find the song. I don’t know the composer or anything about it.

Me on our front porch before we left the house for the recital. I remember I hated having to wear socks with sandals.

Some of the songs the other piano students played that evening in May 1969 were these:

“Hi Lili Hilo”

“Gentle On My Mind”

“Love Is Blue”

“Clair de Lune”

Mozart’s “Concerto in C Major”

“Beach Ball Boogie”

“Star Dust”

“Alice Blue Gown”

Lovely music from the past. I’m so glad I found a reminder.

Do you play a musical instrument? Which ones?

Tired



Ant on a wildflower.



Do you ever feel too tired to sleep? That’s the way I feel as I write this. My body feels like all the energy has drained out of it. But I’m having a hard time relaxing.

Today—well, it’s after midnight now, so yesterday—was a long day. I spent most of it in court, covering a trial. I was there until nearly 7 p.m. Then I had to rush over to another county building to cover a couple of public hearings. I went from there to the office, where I wrote two stories, one on the trial and one on the hearings. Then I worked on updating the website.

The trial isn’t over, so I have to be back in court later this morning for the closing arguments. Then the jury deliberates. Once a verdict is reached, it’s back to the office to write a story for the website.

I’m rambling, but I’m having a hard time focusing. And I’m having a hard time coming up with a topic that would be helpful and interesting for you.

I worry about that. I want to write posts that connect with you. But on days like today, all I can do is tell you how I feel and maybe a bit about how I handled the day.

I felt rushed, and I worried about getting out of court in time to cover the county story. But I did something that I don’t always find easy to do: I asked for help.

Last week, I knew Tuesday was going to be a bear. So I asked my boss if he could help by covering a 4 p.m. government meeting if I didn’t get out of court in time. And he did. I was apologetic about it—I don’t like asking for help—but he was OK with doing it.

So there’s a good reminder for me: it’s OK to ask for support.

And one more thing I did that helped me through the day: on the way back to the office in the evening, I listened to music in the car.

I haven’t driven in over two months because of my broken foot. But today, it was just necessary that I drive. I didn’t know how long I’d have to be in court. The courthouse is a 25 minute drive from home. I like having the car there where I can retire for a brief respite during court recesses.

So I told Larry I would drive. I put on a shoe and drove, and then put the boot back on when I got to my destination. It worked fine.

But what I’m really getting at is what did while I was driving this evening.

Usually, my driving-alone time is also my music time. I listen to my favorite music and sing along. I don’t do it as much when I’m with Larry.

I missed Larry today. We’ve been riding around together every day for a long time. But it was nice to put on some Alison Krauss and listen to her angel voice and sing along. It gave me a 25 minute rest, in a sense.

Asking for help. Music. Both are good things.

And now my brain is telling me it’s time to stop writing. My thoughts have slowed down for a change. It’s time to go to bed.

I didn’t have the opportunity to read blogs Tuesday, but I hope to be able to later today. I miss my daily routine, but I’ll be back.

Meditation lessons



Chase Bird



Soft, slow music, no words. A cat purring his own music. Meditation.

The other evening, I did all the right things. I made myself a mug of tea. I spread out my notebook, pen and mug on the dining room table. I made myself ready to sit, think, record.

I got sidetracked. A cat wanted my attention.

So I sat down on the couch with Chase Bird and turned on the TV, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to watch something mindless until I could get to my real goal of the evening, meditation.

Larry had used the TV last, and I discovered he had left it on one of those music channels that come with the satellite service.

Quiet instrumental music. I liked it and decided to listen for a few minutes.

Chase moved back and forth, first sitting on my lap, then kneading his bed beside me, then back to my lap. Back and forth.

I scratched his ear and neck and talked to him about the pretty music, and he purred loudly. He finally settled down on my lap.

Soft, slow music, no words. A cat purring his own music. Meditation.

The answers are already there.

Like the line in Mary Oliver’s poem “Thirst”:

“I walk out to the pond and all the way God has given us such beautiful lessons.”

What do you discover when you get quiet and still?

Playing the piano, then and now

From Microsoft images http://office.microsoft.com/en-us/images/results.aspx?qu=music&ex=2

I started picking out songs by ear on the piano when I was 4 or 5 years old.

My mother didn’t want me to play by ear, but by note, so she forbade me to play on the piano.

I played anyway, when she was out of the house.

When I was 5 years old, she let me begin piano lessons, which I took for seven years.

Today I still love to play, though I play on a keyboard instead of a piano. I play by note and by ear.

I don’t play very often, because it seems like there’s always something else to do. I recently sat down and played a while after work, and I found it relaxing and fun. I'm adding it to my "do more often" list for stress and anxiety relief.

When I was small, I would sometimes stand beside my mother as she played the piano, and I would play the tune along with her in the higher octaves. This semi-biographical poem reflects those times.

Duet

By Tina Fariss Barbour

Kurtzmann upright

my mother bought with her own money

earned at a third-shift job.

The elephantine piano captured me

as I played my whole notes,

one two three four,

rests, measures,

my knot of scales.

But sometimes I stood beside her

seated on the heavy bench and

we played together

her favorite, “Hi-Lili, Hi-Lo.”

She played by ear across the keys,

singing like Leslie Caron,

smiling at me,

my finger following.

What hobbies or interests did you develop in childhood that you still enjoy?

An offering of a poem

Years ago I attended a Roberta Flack concert in Roanoke, where she sang with the Roanoke Symphony. I wrote a poem about the experience.

I was an adult when I went to the concert, but I remembered hearing some of her music for the first time as a teenager, especially the song “Killing Me Softly.”

 

At a Roberta Flack Concert

By Tina Fariss Barbour

Let me set the scene:

You come around the edge of the symphony

and lift up your arms,

lift and wave the black and white

billows of your sleeves

moving them like ruffled wings

before you sit at the baby grand,

raise your face to the lavender lights.

You sing “Killing Me Softly.”

There’s this thing about me and music.

I occupy the song. It’s mine.

I wrote it. It’s the story of my life.

I’m singing it now just as surely as you are down on stage

while I’m listening far above in the bleachers

near the top, high above almost everyone,

ready for my flight, my leap out

over their heads, dipping down like

a mockingbird dips to listen.

Then I soar again out of reach

of hands that would grab me and

pull me to my seat,

my program rolled in my hand

tapping slowly in time,

keep me in the seat so I won’t leap

again to the young girl who wonders how words can hurt,

how the words of a song can reveal like a lavender spotlight,

reveal this young girl of fifteen

crooning softly with the radio

turned down so low so

no one can hear.

  Have you ever felt like a song was written for you? Are there any songs that take you back to another time?

Can you please turn that down?

This week I’ve been building my posts around the five senses. Today, I consider the sense of hearing.

Loud noises bother me. A lot.

Noisy restaurants, crowded parties—I can stand only so much, and then I have to get out. And the silence that comes once I escape seems heavenly to me.

Loud noises make me anxious, and anxiety makes my OCD more difficult to deal with and can even make me feel depressed.

I’m reading the book The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You, by Elaine N. Aron, and I suspect that I am a highly sensitive person—prone to not liking loud noises, lots of chaos, bright lights and other stimuli that most people handle just fine.

I found this passage interesting:

“One general rule is that when we have no control over stimulation, it is more upsetting, even more so if we feel we are someone’s victim. While music played by ourselves may be pleasant, heard from the neighbor’s stereo, it can be annoying, and if we have previously asked them to turn it down, it becomes a hostile invasion” (p. 22 of e-edition).

When I’m in the car by myself, I turn up my music, and usually sing along. But I remember the days when I lived in apartments and it drove me crazy to have to listen to neighbors’ music, especially pulsating, booming music that shook the walls.

After a while of listening to loud music in the car, I do like some silence, and I’ll turn it down or turn if off completely. And chronic noise bothers me.

But noisy restaurants and crowded parties probably bother me in part because I can’t control the volume.

Sometimes my husband has the television turned up louder than I’d like it. In the room across from our bedroom, where he sometimes watches TV, the television is old. You have to turn it up to hear the dialogue in a show, but then the commercials blare out.

It used to really bother me, especially if I was trying to go to sleep. But since I’ve been working on being more mindful, I’ve tried to actually tune in to the TV’s sounds and sense them as part of many sounds around me.

That said, I still prefer quiet. The quiet helps to soothe my anxiety.

When I want sounds to be soothing, music will sometimes do the trick, usually instrumental music with no words. But some artists, like Alison Krauss, can soothe me even with words.

Here are some other sounds that soothe me:

*The sound of my husband when he loses himself in laughter.

*His soft breathing as he sleeps.

*The purrs of my cats.

*The soft pad of the cats’ paws on the floor.

*The birdsongs in the early morning.

*The slight whirl of the ceiling fan over the bed.

*The wind high in the oak trees.

*Gentle wind chimes.

What sounds drive you crazy? What sounds soothe you?

Play a song: The power of music

Girls at the Piano, by Renoir. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Renoir23.jpg.

I’ve written about books and cats and mandalas and other things I love, but I haven’t written much about music, other than my post earlier this week about my first piano recital.

Music can be one of my most effective anxiety busters. It has the power to change my perspective.

I listen to music for different reasons: to relax, for pure enjoyment, to feel more energetic, to think, to not think, while reminiscing, to inspire myself.

Some nights, I play music to help me fall asleep. These two CDs usually put me out—I usually wake up later and realize I never heard the end of the CD—Yoga Journal “Pure Relaxation” and Lifescapes “Meditations: Native American Flute.”

Monday night, Larry and I listened to some music by the Bee Gees in remembrance of Robin Gibb and the loss of the musical group. We sang along and in a real way rejoiced in the music, even though we felt sad.

I have sung, played music on the piano and organ, and listened to music most of my life. Some of my earliest memories involve music.

When I was perhaps 6 or 7 years old, my mother got a boxer puppy, Boots. While he was a puppy, she kept him on the enclosed back porch, with the fireplace guard around him to keep him from wandering.

Boots didn’t like to be alone. When he was, he would cry.

I couldn’t stand to hear him cry. He sounded so sad and lonely. So I would sit on the floor beside him and talk to him. I also sang to him from the Methodist hymnbook. One of my favorite hymns was “Standing on the Promises,” and Boots heard that one a lot.

My taste in music grew as I grew older. I spent my teen years listening to a lot of John Denver. I still like listening to his music.

College widened my musical world as I listened to roommates’ favorites that became my favorites. My dorm was full of a wide variety of music: James Taylor; Linda Ronstadt; Carly Simon; the Commodores; the Beatles; Peter, Paul and Mary; the Rolling Stones, the Go-Go’s. Have you ever heard of such a combination of music?

As I grew older, I became more interested in folk and bluesy music. I discovered Van Morrison and Nanci Griffith.

I can’t pin down my favorite type of music or even my favorite artist, though I suppose if I had to choose a favorite singer, it would be Alison Krauss. She has the voice of an angel and can harmonize beautifully with anyone.

I took a look at my playlist in my iPod and found evidence of my inability to focus on one type of music. Here are some of the artists:

Alison Krauss

Alan Jackson

Amanda Marshall

Bon Jovi

Bruce Springsteen

CeCe Winans

Celine Dion

David Cook

Dixie Chicks

The Eagles

Elton John

Gordon Lighfoot

Hootie and the Blowfish

James Taylor

John Denver

Josh Groban

Judy Collins

Kate Rusby

Luther Vandross

Martina McBride

Mary Chapin Carpenter

Miriam Makeba

Roberta Flack

Sarah McLachlan

Sheryl Crow

On Monday, I listened to Amanda Marshall’s “Believe in You” while I was walking. I thought about how the message of the song means so much to me. I feel like it’s a message that I want to give to others.

So I leave you with her song. And yes, dear readers, I believe in you.

What does music mean to you? What role does it play in your life? What are your favorites?