Harbor Pilots

Hello, Cadre. Good morning. I'm going to take you for a little walk through my living room because I need to access my printer. Anybody here throw me some hearts? Send me a sunshine. You kidding me? Okay, that's all right. I'll read it off my computer monitor. That's fine. Good morning. Hi, Jules. Hello. Hello. I'm Kathy Joy. My Cadre name is Speak Wonder. And, oh, look at this. I'm wearing my little paw prints today. My little corgi, Gracie, is always by my side. She's over there on the sofa right now.

And we went for a little ride today to the vet. She doesn't like the vet. Hey, Steph. Hi. But you know, the veterinarian is necessary to keep our fur babies healthy and happy. So harbor pilots is the theme that I speak from. And I love to talk about how we can be in a boat in a harbor and not be real sure how our journey is going. And if you have a good friend, also called a harbor pilot, to guide you in safely to harbor, then you are truly, truly blessed. So, caregiver day, I got to see Les Mis.

Les Miserable, Rob. It was a high school production, and I went this past weekend to a local high school. These students were outstanding. I thought it was quite an ambitious project to have young people in a high school do this musical. If you've never seen it, I recommend it. Matter of fact, earlier this week on JC's Cadre appearance, I typed in the comments that I saw Les Mis, and it was vivid and vibrant. I. I think I have to pedal that back a bit, because by description, it is actually grim.

It's a little bit dark. The music is fabulous. And what makes Les Mis such a compelling story to me is that while it's set in the French Revolution and it exposes poverty and human depravity and just dark side of things, there are these glimmers of hope, and there are things that happen that change the whole story and add a glow to it that you didn't see coming. The two main characters are Jean Valjean and Javert. Jean Valjean is released from prison, and he's sheltered by a very generous man in his family while.

While he's, you know, out on parole. And what's he do? He steals from them. And their response is Grace. They let him go. They don't have the police haul him away. And because of that grace that was put into his life, he became a solid citizen. He saved a little girl. He did so many things, and he ultimately extended grace to his most hated Captor, which was Javert. And that's all I'm going to say. Because who wants to spoil a good show if you see it professionally for Broadway? Oh, that's a treat too.

S. i saw it in Denver. And this high school production is just forever in my heart because I love the arts in schools and I'll do whatever I can to support them. So for 10 bucks, I got in to see a show that I adore. The music is amazing. If you know the song Bring Him Home, it will destroy you. It's so beautiful. And the young man who played the lead did great. All of the, all those students did so great. A little bit later this month, I'm going to be seeing Newsies at a middle school. And not too long ago, I saw Fiddler on the Roof Junior at an elementary school.

It was so good, so good and so full of surprises. Today's Cadre is kind of like Jean Valjean, living with ambiguity. When he was released from prison, as the story goes, he didn't know which path to take. And the only thing that could inform him was what he knew, which was theft and survival. And when he was extended grace, it changed his life. But it's because he lived with something he didn't know that he learned something new. So today is about living with ambiguity. And in the caregiving world, we do live with uncertainty.

And it feels like a yo yo type of existence. And speaking from my own heart, my own experience right now with my night, 93 year old mama, she has had a couple of pretty serious illnesses and she's had a hard time coming back from them and she's languishing. Nobody has called me from the nursing home to say, hey, you need to come and be by your mom. We're losing her. None of these words have been spoken but my intuit, my intuition telling me we may be getting close. And it's like a free fall into the unknown.

I want mom as long as she can linger. But I also know there's something imminent because she is approaching the end. She's not on hospice. It's ambiguous and this is one of the things we live with as caregivers. Whether it's an elderly who's going to pass away or maybe a youngster. And we don't know what kind of helps they're going to get while we caregive them. We don't know what's available for them or how they might flourish or where they might flounder. There's so many unknowns in the caregiving realm.

In whatever capacity you're doing this, and I say let's pat ourselves on the back because this is not an easy journey. Today I invite you to live with what is unknown. So this poet says it. Well, Pama Chodrone wrote these words, letting there be room for not knowing is the most important thing of all. When there's a big disappointment, we don't know if that's the end of the story. It may just be the beginning of a great adventure. Life is like that. We don't know anything. We call something bad, we call it good.

But really we just don't know. It's refreshing to not box ourselves into knowing everything. When you think about it, the world we live in now, we want the script we'd like to have, the blueprint, the map. If we can't Google it, GPS it, fact check it, we feel lost. We're in a world of instant knowledge at our fingertips, literally. And you know, I catch myself and I laugh at myself. Checking my weather app. Instead of opening the door and put my hand out to see if it's raining, we check the weather app.

What's the temperature? Oh, what does it feel like? You know, on my weather app it'll say 47 degrees. Feels like 30. So then I guess I'm supposed to know exactly what jacket to wear. It's so funny how we're just not only barraged with information, but we invite it in. I do it all the time. I find out way more stuff than I need to know to get through any given day. Living with the unknowns or with ambiguity is kind of like being in waiting room. You know, when you're in a waiting room, you don't have the answers, you're just waiting for them.

And the best thing that can happen to you in that waiting room, that sterile little place with the worn sofas and dog eared magazines and just the feeling of doom. The best thing that can happen is when a friend or a loved one sits beside you and helps you wait. That's one of the great side benefits of living with the unknowns is when someone that is safe and that loves you sits beside you. Maybe not with any answers at all and perhaps with no words and helps you sit with the unknowns. What a gift that is.

What a gift. I found another poem and this one has no author assigned to it. I thought I'd read this to you also. The map unfurls a canvas white. No path is marked, no guiding light. But in this void A chance to roam, to find a home A place to call home the wind whispers a gentle guide where shadows dance and secrets hide the journey's grace A subtle art to let the soul find its own Start with open eyes and heart so free to wander where destiny will decree the beauty lies in what's unknown A seed of hope, a life to be sown can we live with those seeds of hope?

Maybe sprinkle some water on them and let the sun kiss them until they sprout awake and vibrant. It involves waiting. It involves sitting with stuff we can't anticipate, and that is also known as ambiguity, my friends. Can we make it our friend? This thing called ambiguity. Robert Frost famously wrote the poem the road not taken. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and I, I took the one less traveled by that has made all the difference. When we give ourselves a little bit of time to sit with the unknowns, maybe we can think about the pathways and just let it ruminate.

Which path do I take? Which one am I nudged toward? Jules, I ask. I'm going to say my device every morning. What's the forecast? If I say my device's name, then it'll start talking. On this live, obviously. Thank you, Steph, for your feedback. Thank you for being here, my friends, in this feed, in this Cadre live. I've been thinking about this topic for days now, as my mom sort of wobbles. Wobbling would be a good description of how she's doing. She has a fairly recent diagnosis of dementia and it's.

It's scary. Dementia is getting on a roller coaster, not knowing when it's gonna dip, not knowing when it's going to plunge you into darkness, and then climbing up to the heights and seeing a really good view on a really good day, that's dementia. It's unpredictable, it's wobbly, it has good days and not great days. And as others have put it, and now I'm experiencing it, living with or caring for someone with dementia is a very long goodbye. It's a slow incremental mourning. It's a pre grief, it's a profound sadness and also a very deep joy to still have them and to still have sparks of conversation and moments of recognition, music and prayers, conversations even when they make no sense.

So if you're living with ambiguity and if you're human, you probably are, embrace it. I invite you to sit with the unknowns, make friends with them. And if somebody comes into your waiting room where all is not known and many things are scary, and if that someone sits beside you and helps you wait. You are truly, abundantly blessed and loved. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference. Robert Frost. So I give you Les Miserables, Robert Frost.

These other poets that I've quoted today on the Cadre. And I hope the wind whispers over you a gentle guide, a companion, and a fellow traveler on your ambiguous path. Walk it. Be prepared for adventure and be aware of beauty along the way. You're the best. I'm so glad I found this community. And I'm glad that I have a platform to speak on once a week. Step says standing with you. Hugs. Thank you. Hugs back. There's a little bit of heartbreak in here, too. Preemptive heartbreak. No one wants to invite the end of someone's life whatsoever.

Whatsoever. But we anticipate it and we wonder about it. And my dear friend, that was my college roommate, got a phone call. Not got a phone call. She was with her mom when her mom passed. And I think whenever there's a death, this was on March 17th, just this past Monday, St. Pat's that her mom passed away. And I think when a colleague or friend experiences a loss, we all feel more vulnerable and a little more fragile, certainly more empathetic. Empathetic. I've never known how to say that word, but I feel nothing but empathy and love on the Cadre.

Thank you, Jules. Let's send each other virtual hugs today throughout the day in our thoughts and prayers. Be well. Stay tuned for more Cadre experiences. Lately, I've had to catch a lot of things on replay, and I think most of the Cadre contributors, if not all of us, watch the replay so we can see if someone hopped in and had some comments. So always feel like you're part of the conversation if you need to come back or if you're not able to catch us live and the the stream. The community chat is always really cool.

It's really good stuff. This morning, Dr. Charisse did a wonderful Cadre on. It was like managing our emotions and it was just. I'm going to go back and watch it again because I took a lot of notes and I want to absorb that. As you live with ambiguity, stay on the Cadre because more and more things will be clarified for you in the mix. Bye for now and I'll see you later. And thanks for your encouragement.