THE EFFECTS OF EPILEPSY ON THE BODY

Found a great resource that is definitely worth sharing --- the original article can be found at:  http://www.healthline.com/health/epilepsy/effects-on-body.

After living with epilepsy for all my life it's always interesting to find out that some of the things I take for granted are in fact, part and parcel of epilepsy.  I suppose the point is to learn to live with what you're given.  And to understand your triggers.  Yes, seizures are unpredictable - but to a large extent knowing your environment and yourself can help give you a measure of control.

There are no small acts of kindness

It's the end of the day and I'm randomly scrolling through the stories of the last 24 hours. I stopped .  Amazed by the story of two little boys who gave without expectation - little treasures to faceless, nameless strangers - I was transported by favorite poet's words - to that afternoon with my eye peering through hole to catch a glimpse of the giver.  But, alas - the meeting was never meant to happen. Instead - in a brief exchange of treasures - the unbearable kindness of the gesture imprinted in the heart of one little boy who grew up to be one of the most celebrated writers of all time, Pablo Neruda. And in most of his works - one finds Neruda searching for connection - bringing meaning to every moment .  No doubt this was a gift of the moment decades before.

And without further ado, let me connect you to Pablo Neruda - who in this storytelling demonstrates that with  very powerful consciousness you have the ability to connect and transform .

I hope you enjoy reading this vignette so much that you lose your self in the details .

Neruda relays an anecdote from his childhood that profoundly influenced not only his poetry but also his understanding of art and of life itself:

One time, investigating in the backyard of our house in Temuco the tiny objects and minuscule beings of my world, I came upon a hole in one of the boards of the fence. I looked through the hole and saw a landscape like that behind our house, uncared for, and wild. I moved back a few steps, because I sensed vaguely that something was about to happen. All of a sudden a hand appeared — a tiny hand of a boy about my own age. By the time I came close again, the hand was gone, and in its place there was a marvelous white sheep.

The sheep’s wool was faded. Its wheels had escaped. All of this only made it more authentic. I had never seen such a wonderful sheep. I looked back through the hole, but the boy had disappeared. I went into the house and brought out a treasure of my own: a pinecone, opened, full of odor and resin, which I adored. I set it down in the same spot and went off with the sheep.

He never saw the hand nor the boy it belonged to again. The lamb toy perished in a fire years later. But that boyhood encounter, with the simplicity of its symbolism, impressed upon him a lifelong learning — the second he grasped that faded-wool lamb he grasped a deep truth about the longing for mutuality that impels us to make art:

To feel the intimacy of brothers is a marvelous thing in life. To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life. But to feel the affection that comes from those whom we do not know, from those unknown to us, who are watching over our sleep and solitude, over our dangers and our weaknesses — that is something still greater and more beautiful because it widens out the boundaries of our being, and unites all living things.

That exchange brought home to me for the first time a precious idea: that all of humanity is somehow together…

It won’t surprise you then that I attempted to give something resiny, earthlike, and fragrant in exchange for human brotherhood. Just as I once left the pinecone by the fence, I have since left my words on the door of so many people who were unknown to me, people in prison, or hunted, or alone.

Tending to your roots

As a child moving around - it was easy to lose a sense of rootedness. But my mother, with her persistence in corresponding with friends and relatives showed me that there is no time and distance where people you value are concerned. And the weekly letters I received from my grandparents - 20 page onion-skin missives - were my connection as we moved around. "Roots are important" --- especially when you realize that your roots are as scattered as your travels --- but when tended, the roots extend and grow, allowing a garden, fierce in loyalty and beauty, of relationships to flourish. Where you are right now doesn't matter - where your roots were planted, and how well you took care of them - that's what does.  

Whatever you are going through,  if you tend to your roots, and let your relationships flourish you will never be alone.  No matter where you are. Because everyone is going through something - and whether or not they let you know - the important thing is to recognize the spark in each of us - and see that what may appear as anger is actually pain or grief or sadness. And this may be something we are carrying too.  As my teacher, Karen Berg, asks of us every day, no matter how difficult - #BeAForceofKindness.  In the end, that's what matters.  That friend you made when you were 14 - rejoice in her triumph over adversity; that friend who is grieving today, let him know you are thinking of him.  Or, just sit together and listen.  One day, we'll all need that listening ear, that kind word.  

I'll never forget two years ago when I was struggling - someone I barely knew but respected immensely - pulled me aside and said "I heard you're going through a lot -  you should know whatever is happening - it's not about you. Just keep doing what you're doing. "   I had met her maybe twice before - but I was so inspired by her compassion - her willingness to go outside herself and just say that.  It meant the world then.  And it still does.  So,  "BeAForceOfKindness.  Connect. Listen. Share.  Remember Who You Are.

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"What's been your greatest accomplishment?"
"Keeping in touch with distant friends and relatives."
"Why is that important?"
"It's important to always have people who remember you at various stages of your life. It's especially important as you get older, because there are less of those people around. And they remind you who you are."

Privilege

One Saturday morning, I had the great privilege of spending time with my mother’s mentor and former boss, Sr. Soledad Hilado, OSB.  She had not only been a teacher and President of St. Scholastica’s College, one of the finest all-womens’ Catholic private schools but she had also been instrumental in the stewardship of PAASCU - a body that oversaw the standards of accreditation for Philippine  Schools, Colleges and Universities, of which St. Scholastica’s was a charter member.  Slight and demure, she was the embodiment of genteel grace yet a commanding presence.

All throughout my life Sr. Soledad has been a presence - whether we were living in Manila or away - in all important decisions, or life events,  I knew my mother sought her counsel and advise.

In my life too, she made a major imprint - she arranged for my first communion at age 6, when we had just learned that my father was going to be posted overseas to Singapore.  I had just finished Prep in St. Scholastica’s College and she was concerned that going to an international school might interrupt my spiritual formation.  So she arranged for me to be a sole communicant at the chapel in St. Scholastica’s -  I had private instruction on communion from one of the sisters, Sister Lutgarde.  Of course, to me, I didn’t see the grandness of the gesture, the over-topness of it all.  But looking back, I cannot escape the sense of love for my family that was displayed by Sr. Soledad’s orchestration of my first communion as she broke down convention to ensure this one Sacrament was done “properly” --- this was the one great gift she could give us, as we embarked on a lifetime of being expatriated from country to country. 

So that Saturday morning years later, I had come home to visit my parents - it was my turn to live and work in Singapore.  My mom told me Sister Soledad was ailing, and we agreed we should visit her.  To our surprise, we found her in room, propped up on a pillow watching The Sound of Music on a DVR player.  Her face lit up when she saw my mother.  She said “Linda, you are so beautiful.  You brought Mogsie!  You look lovely, but not like your mama.”  And we couldn’t stop laughing. She made me sit by her bedside.  And that’s when the stories poured out of her. 

“You see, back then I was a ballerina. I loved to dance.  And I had suitors. They were fine men,  they loved me --- but in my heart I knew something was not right.  I loved my Papa and my Mama --- and it was a hard choice to leave them and my life and become a nun.  You see, Mama was sick, and I was the one caring for her --- so my heart, it was breaking. It was like God was asking me to choose.  But I knew there was only one choice.  So I wrote a letter to Fr. xxxx, a Jesuit priest, when I decided it was time to enter the convent.  I told him to fetch me. But of all days, he was at St. Scholastica’s listening to a concert. I was so anxious.  I got in touch with Sr. xxx and she said to wait outside the back entrance of St. Scholastica’s so I could enter.  And when I entered, I sent home a note to reach Papa at 6 pm to say that I was already inside the convent and nothing could be done. I went to my room, stepped out of my heels and looked at my feet inside my slippers. And that was that. That night the other novitiates - they knew I was a dancer, so they asked me to perform. I danced a Hungarian folk dance,“ she recounted, her face beamed, eyes ablaze with the memory of that first night. 

“The next day, my sister arrived.  Papa had written a letter to Mother Superior.  He said he knew that I could not be changed.  He only asked that my mother be allowed to make all my other undergarments - one last act of love from Mama. She wanted to hand sew everything for me.  And it was done. Later on, I was assigned to the mountains.  One of my former suitors followed me and asked me to leave.  To come back.  But how could I?  My heart was so happy. So you see, Mogsie,  whatever it is you choose, you must not settle - whatever God gives you -  if you make the right choices -  you will be so joyful in that choice.  Never settle.  Sometimes you may think your heart is breaking - like it was hard to leave my Mama because she was sick - but I was going to marry the Lord. When you make the right choices, they will be hard, but you will be filled with joy.  Do not settle.”

And, in that precious hour I spent with her -  I could not help but feel that I had glimpsed some divine spark.  I saw her transform before my eyes - her pale face had filled with light, remembering how she chose her destiny - recalling the joy and freedom that such a choice gave her.  In that moment, she was a teacher once again, illuminating the room with her wisdom, reminding me of how much more I needed to strive for.  That in following God’s path, it is often difficult, yet rewarding.  And there is more than one path in serving the Creator -  the  only thing He asks, is that with the gifts He gives us, is that we do not settle. Instead, we must joyfully embrace, and dance to the unique rhythm He gives us.

Thank you Sister Soledad for the many lessons and gifts you have given us over the years.  Thank you especially for the privilege of that one morning with you.  It was our privilege to have you in our lives. 

I am going to think of this day as the first day of my life....

.

A lot of times we  get stuck in our own circumstances - and feel like what  we can do are and who we are  - are  "limited" by where we are and what's around us. And so we settle, and we yearn, and we wait.  Be it a new year, a significant birthday, a sign == something that tells us that it's "time".  The problem is, when we wait, it's never the "right" time.

If there's one thing that I learned this past year -  it's that everything begins with a decision. With the consciousness that it's time to move forward - and to work towards that which we want.  And the more appreciation we have for what we have right now, the more blessings we'll have flowing in.  If we want change, let it begin today - let today be the first day of our lives.  Let every day be "the first day" ---  because every day is a new chance to make that decision.   - MG

No one can go back, but everyone can go forward

And tomorrow, when the sun rises, all you have to say to yourselves is:
I am going to think of this day as the first day of my life.

I will look on the members of my family with surprise and amazement, glad to discover that they are by my side, silently sharing that little understood thing called love.

I will pass a beggar, who will ask me for money.
I might give it to him or I might walk past thinking that he will only spend it on drink, and as I do, I will hear his insults and know that it is simply his way of communicating with me.

I will pass someone trying to destroy a bridge.
I might try to stop him or I might realise that he is doing it because he has no one waiting for him on the other side and this is his way of trying to fend off his own loneliness.

Instead of noting down things I’m unlikely to forget, I will write a poem.
Even if I have never written one before and even if I never do so again, I will at least know that I once had the courage to put my feelings into words.
I will keep smiling, because it pleases me to know that people think I am mad. My smile is my way of saying: ‘You can destroy my body, but not my soul.’

If it’s sunny tomorrow, I want to look at the sun properly for the first time.
If it’s cloudy, I want to watch to see in which direction the clouds are going. I always think that I don’t have time or don’t pay enough attention. Tomorrow, though, I will concentrate on the direction taken by the clouds or on the sun’s rays and the shadows they create.
Above my head exists a sky about which all humanity, over thousands of years, has woven a series of reasonable explanations.
Well, I will forget everything I learned about the stars and they will be transformed once more into angels or children or whatever I feel like believing at that moment.

For the first time, I will smile without feeling guilty, because joy is not a sin.
For the first time, I will avoid anything that makes me suffer, because suffering is not a virtue.
I am living this day as if it were my first and, while it lasts, I will discover things that I did not even know were there.
Even though I have walked past the same places countless times before and said ‘Good morning’ to the same people, today’s ‘Good morning’ will be different. It will not be a mere polite formula, but a form of blessing.
And if I’m alone when the night falls, I will go over to window, look up at the sky and feel certain that loneliness is a lie, because the Universe is there to keep me company.
And then I will have lived each hour of my day as if it were a constant surprise to me, to this ‘I’, who was not created by my father or my mother or by school, but by everything I have experienced up until now, and which I suddenly forgot in order to discover it all anew.
And even if this is to be my last day on Earth, I will enjoy it to the full, because I will live it with the innocence of a child, as if I were doing everything for the first time.

---- Paulo Coelho