Mindful With What Is
by Tom Tanguay

At ninety walking had become a struggle.   He needed two people to support him, even then his steps were painful and short, his breathing labored.  Though not easy, for this once vigorous and fiercely self-reliant man, he had resigned himself to his wheelchair most of the day.   At times confused, unable to give voice to his thoughts, Dad seemed tired of this body and mind.  As we visited this day, he seemed ready for a change to his routine and spirits.
 
The automatic door slid open and we pushed through into the cool, cloudy day.  Rain threatened, but we were out in the air wheeling slowly down the narrow walk to the gardens in the back of the nursing home.  
  
As we strolled by the flowering shrubs and beds, my wife Suzette picked fruit from a cherry tree and gave them to her father.  He accepted as he might any object, without preference and with only mild interest.  When asked, he couldn’t identify the fruit, though he’d been an avid gardener.   He rolled the cherry in his fingers.  We felt the rain begin and aimed for a gazebo nearby.  We pulled up around a square wooden table.   Dad seemed to have dozed with the gentle roll of the ride here and we sat there listening to the rain and feeling the breeze.  I noticed a stand of tall reeds just off to the right and walked over.  I selected four sturdy poles with softly bent, broom – like tops and carried them back to the table.   Along the way, I picked up a small soccer ball lying idly by and set that on the table.  

Dad opened his eyes as I placed a reed in his hands. “Want to play?” I asked. “The game is to keep the ball on the table.”

With the broom-top reed I swept the ball toward him and he immediately lifted his reed and let it down on top of the approaching ball, stopping it from rolling over the edge.  He swept it to his right, lifted his reed and blocked the rolling ball, then swept left.   Suzette responded and swept to her left where brother, Roger kept the ball moving across our table/field.

We kept this spirit-of –the-moment game going for quite some time.  Whether the ball stayed on the table or rolled over the edge, Dad was there all the way, smiling, nearly whooping at precarious times as our game ball teetered or someone made a timely save.   We played as children play.

When the rain let up and we strolled back, Dad held on to his reed.  Now it became an extension of his hands and arms.  He brushed the sidewalk, caressed the grass and plants, reached up into the trees to trace branches and tickle leaves.

Dad’s not unlike the rest of us.  Sometimes we don’t seem to be aware of what is going on around us.   The world seems dull and we feel cut off, out of touch.   Sometimes all we need is to look again, to see and touch the world just a bit differently than usual.   Sometimes we forget that we are making this life up as we go so we can make a game of it, change the rules anytime.  Common reeds can be our toys, our hands, our arms.  When we look with freshness, we wake up and reconnect to our world and to one another here and now, just as we are.

Tom Tanguay, LICSW, offers counseling and mindfulness classes at Tranquil Mind and Wellness in Lakeville. www.tranquilmind.net