Tag: grace

Killing the January Blues

Killing the January Blues

Early in my sobriety, a therapist told me to volunteer in order to get out of my depression. I almost went for her throat.

“That’s your advice? How can I help anyone when I can hardly get out of bed?”

In Alcoholics Anonymous, we’re told self-centeredness is a common trait that leads to drunkenness; it’s suggested that serving others will help keep us sober. 

“It’s a spiritual principle. Don’t overthink it. Just go help someone.” An AA meeting-goer told me when I was whining about the blues one January.

After years of campaigning by activists, members of Congress, and Coretta Scott King, President Ronald Reagan finally signed a bill creating a  federal holiday in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Observed on the third Monday of January, dear Martin was first celebrated in 1986.

“You don’t have to have a college degree to serve. You don’t have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.” MLK told us.

Grace is an indulgent gift from the cosmos. A heart full of love sounds too godly for my rebellious nature. For some, it comes naturally. Not for me. I meet many people I don’t want to love or serve. I balk. This is why I must be told to commit to love, commit to serve.  Every day, I’m reminded of the promised rewards: freedom from melancholy and self-pity. The promise is appealing—and attainable.

During the month of January, organizations, politicians, GenXers, and citizen elders all celebrate MLK through service to others. Rush University Medical Center in Chicago offers a few easy opportunities.

  • Celebrate at a hybrid event: “A Lesson from Dr. King: Health Equity is  Everyone’s Business,” on Wednesday, January 17, from 1:00 -2:00 pm. Experts share how to work towards ensuring everyone has access to their highest level of health. Click  here if you’d like more information.
  • Volunteer in person in Chicago distributing 300 meals on Friday, January 19, from 10:30 am to 12:30 pm. Multiple volunteer roles are available (preparers, packers, and drivers). Want to help? Click here for more info.
  •  Mentor with the Community Health Mentor Program. Teach first-year graduate students about living with chronic conditions (high blood pressure, diabetes, alcoholism), as well as guide them in becoming patient-centered practitioners. All Community Health Mentor meetings will be on Zoom. Mentors receive up to sixty dollars in gift cards for participating in the training and all three meetings. The meeting dates are Wednesdays, January 24, February 14, and March 20, between 1 pm -6 pm for 60-90 minutes. Click here for more info or email Hannah Weitzman, Program Coordinator, at hannah_weitzman@rush.edu.

Dispelling my preoccupation with self is a lifelong endeavor. It’s comforting that MLK recognized this is true for many, which is why he gave us all the big quote:

“Life’s most persistent and urgent question is, ‘What are you doing for others?”

Here’s to honoring the legacy. Happy New Year.

Schoolyard christs

 

I can’t remember which grade school.

The girls double dutched on the noon

Ignoring my new-girlness.

Pulled me to them. Here! Like this!

Grab the ends and swing in time.

Each hand holding a dirty ol’ clothesline

Syncopating with the girl at the other end

While one of ‘em waited for the perfect time

To lift up and jump into the bend. 

Then Now! my turn to switch my place

Lift up and jump to the slap slap slap

My keds catch, the old rope wraps

And all the girls laugh with grace

For me who doesn’t deserve it

The new girl who hasn’t earned it

Biking Around the Bomb

 Bicycle Grace by Regan Burke

The photo shows 2 athletic young men, 2 children and me, a plump old lady, pedaling east across Stockton Drive, a tree-lined street that sidewinds Chicago’s Lincoln Park Zoo.

The photo appeared in the City Beat section of the Chicago Tribune August 10, 2015 with the headline, “Biking Against the Bomb.” The caption reads “Demonstrators begin a 7-mile bike ride Sunday to mark the blast zone of the atomic bomb dropped on Nagasaki, Japan.”  My bike has a big yellow front tire, a black whitewall rear tire and red basket. I’m sporting neon pink ankle-length trousers, lime-green sneakers, and a “Bike Around the Bomb” extra-large short-sleeve turquoise t-shirt snugly over my long-sleeve lemon shirt. The t-shirt just happens to be the same color as my helmet and eyeglasses. My bike posture befits a 69-year old short grandmother with bulging thighs and donut midriff.

I stand out in the photo.

You see my hands gripping the handlebars of my beloved town bike. What you don’t see is God caressing those hands with high-fives. The day this photo was taken, that bicycle grace relieved me of the physical pain of moral certitude.

When I was in my 50’s, I worked in downtown Chicago overlooking the Daley Center. Every month a group of bicyclists, Critical Mass, gather in the plaza before their raucous ride through city streets. How I longed to join them! But I’d been derailed from lifelong bike-riding by fibromyalgia. After I retired I downshifted into wheelchair-bound despondency.

Suicidal thoughts took me to the velodrome of alternative therapies. Round and round I went to anyone, anything that might relieve my suffering mind-body. Eventually meditation led to feldenkrais, writing therapy, pain relief, and a bicycle.

I’ve marched in peace demonstrations since the 1960’s so “Biking Against the Bomb” was the perfect foray into group cycling since I regained mobility. Educated by nuns, I learned about peace huddled under my 1st-grade desk hiding from a possible atomic bomb. Pray for peace. God required peace by every means possible.

President Truman had written his own moral code a year before I was born. In August, 1945 he murdered 180,000 Japanese civilians with atomic bombs. An unnamed fear took root in my fetal shroud and sprouted in the dappled shade of A-bomb-talk throughout my youth. This genetic consequence chained me to the spokes of peace activism.

At my meditation group I tried to describe my day of bicycle grace but spiritual gobbledegook fell out of my mouth and I self-consciously coasted to the end of my sharing with, ”I think I could ride with Critical Mass now.”

Group-think chattered: “Oh no. Not them. Scofflaws. Sail through stop signs. Wheel around pedestrians. Weave in and out of traffic. Lawless.”

I said, “But they have a police escort.”

“Yeah. Unruly fringe group. Take over the street and piss off drivers.”

I went home, opened my computer, defaulted to moral certitude and clicked “going” on the next Critical Mass event listed on FaceBook.Biking