The gift of receiving
I breathe in, receive into the inverted tree of my lungs, the gift of green and growing things, oxygen.
I breathe out, offer up the by-product of my respiration, think of the gorgeous old camellia in the back yard, to her (and all those other growing things) I dedicate my carbon dioxide.
My breath, a fundamental act of life, is an expression of my interdependence. From the air in my lungs to the bacteria in my belly that digest my food, I am because we are.
Capitalism erodes social connection. It takes the things we used to do for each other for free and turns them into services. Then we buy ourselves out of the discomfort of asking for what we need and in the process we lose the opportunity for connection. When was the last time you went and asked your neighbour for something instead of dashing down out to the shops?
In this day and age asking for what you need is a radical act, an act of service that reignites the possibility of connection. It is vulnerable to ask for things. People might say “no,” or worse, they might say “yes” when they mean “no.” They might feel awkward or obligated or even offended. Asking takes courage and a willingness to navigate all the uncertainty of human relational dynamics.
My family, like so many, are fiercely independent. Two years ago my Mum had a melanoma removed and I didn’t find out about it until she mentioned it in passing two weeks later. I was furious. She had cancer and she didn’t even tell me.
A year later my Dad was advised to have colonoscopy after routine screening picked up an anomaly. He was careful to call and let me know straight away. It turned out that he had bowel cancer and was booked in for surgery. When I offered to hang out with Mum while Dad was in surgery, she wasn’t sure if that was necessary but I insisted.
When the day came we dropped Dad off at the hospital together, then went out for lunch and browsed the shops near by. We chatted about this and that and distracted ourselves in the bookshop, carefully avoiding mention of the undercurrent of fear.
Eventually the surgeon rang and told us the surgery was a success, everything was more straightforward than they had hoped. As Mum dropped me home that evening she said “I would have been alright on my own.”
I laughed “Yes but that’s not the point is it? The point is you didn’t know and you might have been alright but personally I really enjoyed hanging out with you.”
“Yes, thank you for hanging out with me.”
Recently Mum was diagnosed with a brain tumour. It is benign and there is a recommended course of action with a high likelihood of full recovery. This time she has been telling me what has been happening at every step. I really appreciate being able to share the experience with her and Dad, my brother and our partners.
The tumour has put her in a reflective mood, thinking about her life and her legacy. It seemed to me that she was selling herself short though, focusing on her failings rather than her strengths. So I decided I would ask for help, I asked my community on social media to share what they love about Mum. The response was effusive and joyous, from recent friends to my first high school boyfriend, people were able to give specific and detailed memories of my Mum and her impact on them. Mum had no idea she had had such an influence.
In this situation asking for help turned a crisis into an opportunity for closeness and connection. Earlier today I saw Mum off to her first of many radiation treatments. She read out a couple of letters that people have sent her and I was moved to tears by their effusiveness and care.
People love to help, they love to show their care and appreciation, why not make the most of that? Why aim for ‘I can get by on my own’ when we could use these moments to activate the care and connection that is available? I am so grateful that Mum gets to embark on this healing journey feeling like she is surrounded by love and I am honoured and humbled by her willingness to receive our care.
Part 5 of a series of reflections on my participation in the Practical Self-Management Intensive with Better Work Together. The focus this week was on generosity.
I am immensely grateful for this skilfully hosted learning journey and for the community that has sprung up around it over the last five weeks. With the beginnings of Amble and my mother’s health crisis, this exploration could not have come at a better time.
