Is it CE? YOU tell ME!

When people ask me what a conductor is, I usually say something along the lines of "a conductor is an educator and re/habilitation professional that specializes in teaching movement strategies and skills to people with neuro-motor disorders such as cerebral palsy, Parkinson's Disease, stroke, acquired brain injury, MS".  Who am I kidding - I don't usually say that, I always say that.  Sometimes I substitute "disabilities caused by conditions like..." for "neuro-motor disorders such as...", but the limited list of conditions and the automated emphasis on movement strategies and skills is always the same and I no longer really believe that this is what a conductor does.  People rarely ask for more details - let's face it, that's a pretty good small talk conversation killer - and I am left with this empty feeling of a missed opportunity to elevate Conductive Education (CE) by talking about the subtle but essential and  essentially human aspects of what I do beyond teaching movement -- the conductive magic -- and its applications beyond the motor disordered population.

Wait a minute - so am I saying that CE is not about teaching movement to people with motor disorders?  Yes - sort of.  In traditional CE people with motor disorders come to learn to move better and on the surface the obvious skills and strategies being learned are motoric.  And yes, I certainly spend the bulk of my time working through movement and teaching movement strategies and skills, though I do not limit myself to working only with people with motor disorders.

However, teaching movement is only the obvious 'on the surface' part of what CE is, of what I do.  Below the motoric exterior, psycho-social change - conductive magic - is happening, not accidentally, not as a side bonus, but as part of my what I am purposefully trying to do, as part of what conduction is.  The movement and the magic are intricately tangled and inseparable.  It doesn't feel like CE unless that conductive magic is there too - those changes that happen under the surface when somebody starts to have hope, have confidence, to connect, to think differently, to believe in themselves, to problem solve, to be positive, to be willing to try.  Those changes don't always happen, even when somebody successfully achieves a movement related goal.  And -- perhaps more tellingly -- those changes sometimes occur even when somebody does not achieve their movement related goal, and these changes may in fact actually be pre-requisites for that person's success.

When that conductive magic is there, regardless of the person's diagnosis or lack thereof, it feels like 'we are doing CE'.  Let's push the boundaries shall we -- here are some examples.

Of all my clients, LE is the one that I feel most conductive with.  LE is 46, rather autistic and rather prone to anxiety.  His mind imprints memories and experiences differently to how yours or mine does.  This makes it really difficult for him to un-learn or un-associate experiences that leave a mark, particularly negative experiences such as a recent fall on a slippery surface.  He also has vertigo -- so understandably going down escalators is a major trigger for his anxiety, especially considering he is looking down at his feet to avoid tripping or slipping.  LE's carers and family were finding it impossible to take him on recreational outings as the panic attacks (which included screaming, crying, and repetitive self injuring at the top of escalators or on reflective floor surfaces) were becoming unmanageable; LE was becoming more isolated and depressed.  My role is to help him regain confidence walking around the local shopping centre and on the escalators so he can resume going on recreational outings.

Through strategic trial and error LE and I have worked out a system for managing escalators and shiny floors.  We choose a landmark on our approach to the escalator or shiny floor where we begin marching and singing (we started with 1-2 buckle my shoe because it was easy, subconscious, but LE has since informed me that he likes ABBA so we now march to the dolce tones of us singing 'Dancing Queen').  As we get closer (still marching and singing) I remind LE to keep his head up and give him something specific at eye level to look at - he repeats what he is looking at while still marching, looks down briefly to check his feet and looks at that focus point.  The marching never stops, the singing resumes and on we go.  If necessary LE knows to march on the spot for a few steps before stepping onto the escalator but doesn't stop moving or singing when at the top (the singing and the concentration needed to keep marching mean that the anxiety a.k.a 'bad thoughts' can't come into his head -- we literally are stamping and drowning out the anxiety with ABBA).  If LE starts to freak as we approach, with the simple command 'detour' we march away, regain composure and approach again.  If we are successful I am over the top with praise and high fives.  If we are not successful I acknowledge the effort, don't react to the panic attack (this takes an incredible amount of concerted energy on my part) and as soon as possible try again until we have a good one because I don't want to risk him imprinting a negative experience of escalators and panic and me, I want to leave him with a positive experience to imprint.

Everything I say when I'm with LE is purposeful.  I don't know what bit of what I say might imprint in his mind, and he is echolalic (repeats certain things that are said over and over, sometimes with increasing volume) and has certain programmed learned verbal responses making his responses to what he is not repeating relatively predictable.  Which means while we are walking towards the shopping mall and the escalators I have time to get him repeating and affirming what I want him to be thinking.  It goes one of two ways.  I'll say 'LE, you've been doing really well with the escalators', he'll say 'well with the escalators, well with the escalators' (echolalia) or I'll say 'you are getting better and better at the escalators', he'll say 'yes I am' (programmed learned agreeing response).  Imagine the effect of me slipping and saying  'you don't seem scared anymore' and him repeating 'seem scared' or me saying 'no biting and screaming like last time' and him saying 'yes I am'.

LE knows the system we are using -- his memory is very good -- so while we are walking we break down the task ahead and go through the plan step by step.  He knows what's expected of him, what is going to happen, and what the back up plan is.  I ask him to visualize it happening perfectly and smoothly, while we are walking and talking about it, and to try to imagine feeling brave and confident and strong and proud of himself - I don't know whether he understands these 'feelings' but he gives me these words back as part of the dialogue we have when we are talking about the system or visualizing doing it and I ask him he feels.

I know it must sound odd, but it works so well to work conductively with LE - the manifestation of his autism lends itself so perfectly to working through repetitive intention and systematically broken down and practiced complex tasks.  Repetition of key words and phrases and systematisation of everyday tasks are weird for most people new to a CE environment but are perfectly normal to LE -- it's how he does everything.  Because I can manipulate the way he already uses language to affect his thinking, intention, confidence, ability and can use language so obviously to plan and structure his actions he becomes able to do things that seemed impossible to him and to those helping him.  I'm working with what he already could do - repeat things, memorize things, walk rhythmically - and using his autism positively instead of trying to stop him from being autistic.  His mom and carers have reported that he is managing better with them now and that he uses the exact system with whomever he is with, even 'explaining' it to new staff.

Is it CE? You tell me!  I'll give you some more 'unusual examples' of working conductively and of variations on the conductive magic theme in my next posting.  In the mean time you can LOL while you think about LE and I marching our way onto escalators singing....        http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=REElUors1pQ

"Yes, I am a dreamer
For a dreamer is one who can find his way by moonlight
and see dawn before the rest of the world."
-- Oscar Wilde --

Pounding the Pavement and other Life Lessons

Yesterday I went for a run -- I run, but I don't love it; there are other things I'm much better at and would prefer to spend a sunny afternoon doing, but yesterday was different.  As I ran, I enjoyed the feeling of my legs moving beneath me as they moved me around Narrabeen Lake and appreciated being able to run.

I remembered back to the first fun run I ever did, a 5km run fundraising for the Achilles Running  Club, a Toronto based running club supporting runners with disabilities.  Though only 5km, this run was a real struggle for me, and at some point during that run -- perhaps when a runner with a prosthetic leg or a blind person being led by a running guide or somebody pushing a wheelchair ran past me as I puffed and panted along -- I decided to get better at running.  I remembered back to my half marathon - I still remember the 'of the moment' contempt I had for the person wearing a shirt that said "the pain is temporary, the glory is forever".  I remembered to look around at the beautiful place where I was running, to notice the ducks and geese and kayakers on the lake, to run and smell the roses so to speak because yesterday's run wasn't about my running or my fitness, but about KH getting out and about in his scooter, something he hadn't done in years.

KH had done half of his hard work already - it is a very difficult for him to transfer onto his scooter and then back into his chair that he uses at home hence it being years since he had been able to go scooting, but we had agreed that an outing would be awesome for our last session.  I have to tell you I've never seen a scooter quite like this - probably 20 years old with a little light switch to flick for forward or reverse, big crazy handles for steering like an old Harley Davidson.  When I took the cover off of it I actually doubted that it would go at all.  KH had asked (via his AAC) me how my running was, but I was more worried that I wouldn't be strong enough to push it if it choked en route.

Off we went -- and yes I had to jog, run, and sometimes even sprint to keep up with him, especially on the wide flat path around the lake, and even on the bush trails that were barely wide enough for the scooter.  Kids stared at us, not the usual curiosity filled way that kids often stare at someone with a disability, but in the 'that's so cool' way adults look at a cherry red convertible mustang  -- KH's wheels were by far the biggest and coolest anywhere around.

As I said, I enjoyed my run, spurred on by KH's sounds of glee when I couldn't keep up or started getting puffed, wanting to keep up with him to witness his enjoyment of the day, to be close enough that if he wanted to say something I could get his communication aid out for him.  I was grateful that I had worked on my running enough over the years since my first fun run that on KH's day out he didn't have to be held back by my limited running ability - and also grateful that KH wanted to stop and look at things so I had a few seconds here and there to catch my breath.

As I ran, I remembered SE learning to drive his very fast chair with his very limited right hand so that he could learn to play wheel chair tennis; he needed to hold the racket with his left hand which was normally his driving hand.  SE -- the mischievous show pony that he is -- ran me hard that day too, in a little park where the session could be watched by my colleagues, clients, and acquaintances.

As I ran, my mind drifted to other random fun moments I've had with people in wheelchairs.  Not CE moments, but just random slices of life moments.  I thought about getting trackside at the Indy 500 with MG; I though about SP after a few drinks taking her wheelchair down a small set of stairs where a portable ramp had been a few hours earlier; I though about the fun CW and I had while she was learning to cross busy roads in her new foot driven wheelchair; I thought about KW bringing a batch of his very special brownies in on his birthday to enjoy with the rest of  his MS group (yes I'm serious - all 5 of them were off chops and giggling through the whole session); I thought about getting around the wild markets of Hong Kong with M&LD; I thought about KD getting her wheelchair stuck in a pile of woodchips while geocaching in a cemetery; I thought about training FG for her Antartica adventure that included climbing down a ladder into a zodiac to get to the icebergs; I thought about YG coming out to cheer my dragonboat team on wearing her team shirt and hat; I thought about SP in the back of an ambulance on the way to hospital with breathing difficulties suddenly coming good when she realized how sexy the doctor treating her was.  As I ran I remembered my grandmother in her wheelchair, friends with several teenagers in her neighbourhood.  The kids came to shovel her driveway or help with the garden knowing that she loved rock concerts could take a carer with her - Ricky Martin, the Spice Girls, Savage Garden were amongst her favourites.  This is the same grandmother who concluded that people in wheelchairs don't get hugged as much as other people so decided to change that, throwing her arms up and insisting that everyone (the mailman, the bus driver, everyone) hugged her.

As I ran, spurred on by KH's vocalizations, laughing as KH waved at admiring kids we passed by, I thought about when I first met KH (detailed in my previous blog posting); that first day I got caught up in his disability and circumstances but yesterday I was hanging out, having fun, celebrating being alive with an amazing person.  I'm forever grateful for the amazing people I encounter in work and in life, and for the free attitude adjustments they offer.    And, I'm grateful for clients who become friends, who let me into their lives, and who share their moments of adventure and misadventure with me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bw1KdIDRwww&feature=related

Conducting when it's Confronting

I try not to roll my eyes when talking to some well meaning person about 'what I do for a living' and 'whom I do it with', when with their hand on their heart and their eyes welling up with tears, they tell me what an angel I am, express marvel at my patience, or assert that they themselves could never do it though they know it must be incredibly rewarding.  It angers, frustrates, and outright amazes me that when people see the people whom I work with, they see my humanity and not my client's, as if my client's humanity is shrouded by their disability.  But I try not to roll my eyes.  I try to respond in a way that is not pedantic or condescending because for whatever reason it is human nature for people to be frightened by those who are different, to prefer not to deal with the reality of their own mortality, to be generally uncomfortable in their own skins, and to feel confronted by the very physical world of disability.  I understand that for the most part people mean well but feel confronted.  And yes, disability can be very confrontational - even for people with disabilities, caring for people with disabilities, or working with people with disabilities.

Today I sat in my car sobbing after my initial consultation with KH because his story and his circumstances were confronting; because I already cared and wanted to help him but didn't know if I could, or where I would start.  I'm telling you this because though I love what I do, sometimes it is hard and sometimes it is confronting because life and disability and disability services can be unfair, awful, and heart breaking.  I've never really been good at the whole 'professional objectivity keep people at arms length thing' - and I accept that sometimes that means having very human, emotional gut responses to people that I meet, or things that happen in the lives of people I work with and genuinely care about.

On days like this I miss working with my very good friend and conductive mentor AB because we talked about this stuff; she validated my feelings of confrontation and was not afraid to show me hers - such a precious rarity in a senior professional and so important to my professional development.  On days like these I think about how AB mentored me - no actually, how she conducted me - from these moments of professional despair back into our classroom refocussed and ready to confront what had confronted me.

I often try to imagine what AB would tell me in moments like those after I met KH today.  AB would say "we have to try" no matter how impossible something seemed. If something we tried didn't work she would say "we have to keep trying until we find a way".  Today when I told KH that I didn't know how far we would get but that I wanted to try, he typed out that he was expecting me to tell him that there was nothing that I could do, like everybody else told him and that he was happy to try.

If I told AB I wasn't sure if I could help someone, she would say "of course you don't know, you have't tried.  But you are a conductor", she would say with pride, "we try, this is what we do".  She is so right - though there may be similarities from one person to another, each person, each body, each disability is different.  We improvise, we think on the fly, we make it up as we go along, and over time and with experience start to refine this 'trying'.

If I told AB I didn't know where to start, she would ask me about what KH could do, and would remind me to start there.  Though I'm still not sure exactly how or where I will start with KH, I am amazed that in his 50 plus years of living with his brain injury he has found ways to manage as much as he has, and trust that he will show me where to start.  AB would say "conductors don't have every answer, but that's ok if we keep looking -- this is what we have to teach the participants".  Thinking about KH again, I remind myself that sometimes this is also what they teach us.

Today after I met KH, I sat in the car and sobbed -- it was confrontational and I was upset and I wanted to help but was scared.  I think that we need to talk to each other about these feelings -- I believe that they are a very real part of being a conductor.  I hope to be able to write something motivational and exciting about what conductive education has helped KH achieve sometime soon.  But today I'm writing to tell you that though meeting KH was confrontational, upsetting, and caused me to doubt what I had to offer through conductive education, after my imaginary debrief with AB this afternoon I am ready, willing, and excited about the opportunity to try.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=skYfPirQHbY

A Little Hope Goes a Long Way

"For the first time in years I have hope" MR said this morning, after gliding beautifully up and down her hallway several times , swinging her arms and counting 1-2 as she stepped, stopping, correcting herself and starting again with control when she lost balance or stumbled. "I feel like I don't just have to cope with it by myself in my head, that there is something that I can do for myself and that I know what I can do instead of wondering if I can do this or should do that".  MR is a single mom with multiple sclerosis (MS) whom I have been working with intensively with over the past several weeks through Phase 2 of the Enable Me Project. When I met her she was beside herself with depression and fear about her worsening walking and balance and not psychologically ready to look at a walking aid.  She was completely isolated, only leaving the house to get her son to school and do the groceries because it was easier not to go anywhere than to risk falling.

Enable Me Phase 2 is a shorter initiative that was tacked on to the end of the Enable Me Project -- again investigating the same pro-active intervention opportunities but this time for a very different population. Where in Phase 1 the participants were elderly people living independently in the community, the participants in Phase 2 are already 'in the system'.  They are people with disabilities that are already clients of Community Care Northern Beaches (the organization running the research project) either through Community Care's community living program or through their 'older parent carer' program.  At first the case managers were not sure whether it would be appropriate to have a personal trainer involved with this population group, but the case manager that I worked under in Phase 1 argued my case, told them that I was 'specialized' and had experience in disability and told them what she could about Conductive Education.  It helped that of all the clients in Phase 1, the ones who had the most success with 'personal training' were surprisingly the 'frailest' and most 'challenging' (translation - the people with chronic conditions such as stroke and back problems or early stage Parkinson's, or otherwise in the 'too hard' or 'nothing can be done' basket - exactly my cup of tea).

In Phase 2 of Enable Me -- so far -- I have been working with adults with MS, cerebral palsy, stroke, acquired brain injury, intellectual disability, autism, and pervasive anxiety disorder on a range of goals as varied as the individuals and conditions setting them. I am spending much more time as a conductor and continuing to test the boundaries of CE as an approach to working with people with and without motor disorders.

Don't get me wrong -- I'm glad for the tools of my personal training trade; MH has an acquired brain injury but her main goals are around fitness and weight loss; a few minutes of yoga are the difference between LE losing it completely or being able to recover and make it through the session after a massive panic attack; JW certainly has cerebral palsy but wants the strength to swim a lap of an olympic pool.

More importantly, I'm glad for the philosophical tools of my conductor trade from which I approach people.  I'm glad that I can see the person and not just the problem; that I seek the why that underpins the what of their goals and that I value it; that I have the patience to wait for sometimes minute results and that I never get tired of wildly celebrating achievements large and small; that I appreciate the effort and determination it takes to stand up and try again and know to reward effort that when there are not positive results; that I know I need to equip people with flexible and dynamic tools which they can use and modify as and when needed instead of with a list of meaningless exercises to do every morning.

MR really did walk beautifully this morning; it was the best I have seen her walk in the 7 weeks we have been working together. She seemed to glide down her hallway, swinging her arms, stepping evenly while counting 1-2-1-2, stopping to make necessary corrections without me having to say anything. When I told her so she beamed with pride -- which certainly suits her better than the despair she wore when I first met her -- and told me that her daughter and her friend had both said her walking was looking better, and that she had been out to meet her girlfriend for lunch for the first time in months.

I'm glad that I could teach MR some core strengthening exercises that she could practice on the swiss ball.  I'm really glad that because of Conductive Education I knew enough about MS and ataxia to be able to help MR with her walking and could help her make sense of her ataxia.  I'm most glad that because of the way that CE has taught me to approach people I knew that the pride and sense of achievement I saw on MR's face was more important than the fluency of her walking, and that the real achievement was not that she walked well enough that her friend noticed but that she had the confidence to go out and to meet her friend.  And I'm over the moon ecstatic that for the first time in years she has hope because my years in Conductive Education have taught me that hope is transformational; it influences potential and outcome long after a person stops 'doing CE' because that person believes in possibility and in herself again.

MR will be discharged from Enable Me next week. I would worry, but I know that she leaves with a pocketful of tricks and techniques, and enough hope to know that it is worth using them.

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” 

― Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere's Fan

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-PNun-Pfb4&feature=related

A letter to my personal trainer alter ego from my inner fat kid

I have been battling my little demons for the past several weeks; having ridiculous and self defeating conversations in my head, hashing through everything over and over again.  Avoiding mirrors, not feeling good in my clothes let alone my skin, not wanting to be at the gym, sabotaging my efforts to get back in the saddle.  I was home for a few weeks; I had mentally prepared for a few weeks of being out of my workout routine and made good on my commitment to myself and to my personal trainer about being sensible about food choices most of the time and having a few guilt free holiday indulgences.  I did not plan for a random shoulder injury and a few more weeks out of the gym when I got back here while I rehabbed, and I lost it a bit.  Food cravings creeping back in out of nowhere; week night sneaky drinks; cheat weekends instead of cheat meals.  A couple of kilos -- and no, not muscle gain; not gaining brain weight from added wisdom -- a percentage or three more body fat.  In the grand scheme of things no tsunami or war or sudden loss of a loved one I keep reminding myself but in my personal and private little hell it has been frustrating and devastating.

I usually have a darn tooting good attitude about myself as a personal trainer -- my clients see me go up and down and know that I'm human, and know that I understrand their struggle because from my personal experience I know how hard it is.  Been there, done that, bought the x-large t-shirt, worked hard and figured out what worked for me, traded it in for a med t-shirt, now take my hand, I can help you do the same.  In fact I have had many referrals through the gym from people asking after 'the not skinny trainer' -- and I have had good giggles with another trainer whom I work with who is a champion figure sculpter, we know our physiques attract clients to our business for very different reasons.  But when I am in a negative headspace, when my inner fat kid waddles to the surface of my conscious mind it all stops being funny.  Before I was a personal trainer I could go to the gym and throw around the weights to escape; put on my grumpy training face and my invisibility cloak and workout in the anonymous comfort of my little world.  As a trainer I can't be invisible; I can't even be grumpy.  And when I am indulging my inner fat kid I don't want to work out, feel like everyone is watching me and judging me, feel hypocritical working with my weight loss clients, see myself through the fat kid's warping mirrors and round and round we go on the merry-go-round of self destruction -- weeeeeeee.

I have finally backed my inner fat kid into a corner and am feeling considerably better;  life is back in perspective, I am eating well and training again -- heck I can even get through my affirmations and gratitudes without argument or interruption from that nasty fat kid in my head.  But DF said I should publish this because people will relate, and HH said I should finish writing it to help me get it out of my system -- both are wise women, both have battled themselves on many an occasion, and both will have to accept my edited version because some of the things that my inner fat kid was saying don't deserve to be published.

Fat Kid - Hey PT Lisa, can I talk to you, I'm having a rough time over here
PT Lisa - Oh no, not you again.  Hey don't you have a personal trainer?  Can't you talk to Chris about this?
Fat Kid - Yeah but I can't talk to him -- I'm too embarrassed; I'm sure he's already seen me all fat again and is already disappointed, and he'll just say let's get back into it and I can't train with him until I'm already back into it and I don't want to let him down...
PT Lisa - Hmmmm -- as I recall Chris is always supportive and amazing when you talk to him.  Can't you talk to Alexander?  I'm sure I heard him call you beautiful today, he'll make you feel better?
Fat Kid - He's just saying that to make me feel better and anyway I tried -- but I'm just making him crazy and besides he doesn't understand, he just has to look at a gym and he is perfect.  It's easy for him.
PT Lisa - Wow.  Not even Alexander eh?  I guess I can go through this with you for the millionth time.  Sighs.  Hang on a minute -- I'm going to need a strong coffee before I deal with you
Fat Kid - Skip the coffee -- let's go for beer or ice cream -- I know a good place.  I'm over this; I'm tired of fighting with myself, I'm tired of falling off the wagon and having to get back on, maybe I'll just give up the gym and the lifestyle and the personal training and open a gourmet ice-creamery
PT Lisa - That's not very helpful now, is it.  It's not really what you want, you are no longer at home when you are the Fat Kid -- it you were you would be happy and wouldn't be harassing me in the middle of the night.  And besides, you know you get sick when you eat ice cream these days.  What do you really want?
Fat Kid - I want to get to a point where a few weeks doesn't matter this much, where I don't fall off this badly and do this much damage, where the years of work don't get chucked in the bin by a few weeks of being off of my game.  I want it to be easy.
PT Lisa - You know it is simple, but will never be easy.  It will always come down to daily habits, daily choices, food and lifestyle.  It will always be a fight, a balancing act between lifestyle and indulgence, and sometimes indulgence will literally tip the scales and you will have to get the balance back.  It would be easier if you could keep your attitude in check...
Fat Kid - Hey! There's nothing wrong with my attitude! It's just not fair, that's all.  Why should I have  to 'fight to get the balance back' when other people can just cruise.
PT Lisa - Reality check.  Life's not fair.  And of all the unfair things life can deal, really Fat Kid, really?
Fat Kid - I know.  I know.  Reneg. That was pathetic, even for me.
PT Lisa - You know what will make you feel better?
Fat Kid - Yes. No.  Don't say it.  You are going to tell me to go to the gym or have a salad with flaxseed oil or something
PT Lisa - Wow.  You really are not ready to take this on -- maybe we should do this another time?
Fat Kid - Yeah sure, maybe next week or next month.  But you better give me your credit card cause by then I'll need to buy a closet of fat clothes and a few tubs of ice cream.
PT Lisa - Nothing wrong with your attitude at all -- carry on.  I'm out of here
Fat Kid -  No wait.  Sorry.  I'm listening.  What will make me feel better?
PT Lisa - Other than a workout and a salad with flaxseed oil?
Fat Kid - Ha ha!
PT Lisa - Get out of your head; give yourself a break from you for a few minutes or even a few days.  Do things that make you happy, relax, walk on the beach, laugh, have fun, lay off.  Stop being so nasty to yourself, be kind, be where you are, clear your head, and decide where you are going, gear yourself up and as HH said get the motivation and the headspace and the goal back in line.    Get back on the wagon.  And for heaven's sake stop busting Alexander's balls, and call Chris and ask for help.  Work on your affirmations, work on your headspace and the rest of you will follow.    
Fat Kid - (getting teary)
PT Lisa - But first crank this song, dance around like a lunatic, and for heaven's sake smile! (This is for all the bum chums and sisters out there)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yDSK91mUNLU

"Don't write a check with your mouth that you can't cash with your ass"

Wise man from 'Sucker Punch'

The Winds of Change

Ready for some stream of consciousness and random thoughts?  I figured I'd better warn you that this is going to be one of those blog postings...

The winds of change are blowing -- I can smell them, I can taste them, and my skin prickles with anticipation as the familiar winds gentle tug at me.  C'mon Lisa; let's go they whisper.  I feel like a happy dog with his head out the window of the car, catching so many different scents and sensations, looking and sniffing around, not quite sure where to look or what smell belongs to what.  Like a kid at an amusement park overstimulated and excited but not sure which ride to go on next.

So many of my big decisions in life, especially in my professional life, have been made by me being privileged enough to be able to act on amazing opportunities that have popped up at perfect times; volunteer here, go to school there, take a job here.  Over the past few years I have been more active in creating these opportunities for myself -- I love what I do, how can I create a work environment that works for me, this isn't working, try this, tell the universe what you want, give more than you've got, put it out there, and try not to be too surprised when once you've put it out there it seems to happen.  I said I feel like a happy dog with his head out the window -- I have had a very good few years out here on my own, working for myself, living the dream, a successful business, a diverse and rewarding practice.  I'm happy, I'm fulfilled, but I can smell these winds of change all around me, I can feel them teasingly messing my  hair as they mess with my mind.  And they've been blowing for a few months now.  C'mon Lisa; let's go.  Where? What? Why now, universe, I'm happy?


Some interesting and tempting job offers -- including an opportunity to work alongside AJ, an amazing conductor and friend whom I love and respect.  But the timing hasn't been right; the path hasn't been clear for me to grab these opportunities and run with them.

I've just had a few weeks off, a wilderness camping trip in the Canadian Rockies with my partner in crime AR, a few weeks at home with my family.  The plan was to come back with a plan for what next.  But AR, and the mountains, and my niece were all a bit distracting, AR in particular, who totally threw me off guard by proposing!  And now I've come back, and am trying to settle in but that wind of change is flirting with me.

There has been stuff and politics going on at the gym where I'm based and though it hasn't affected me directly I'm looking at other places where CE and my business (Transformations: Personal Training for Every Body) can better flourish.  As scheduled, the Enable Me research project will come to an end in December so I will have time to move in different directions.  I would like to remain allied and to work in support of Fighting Chance -- though they have shifted focus away from funding private intervention they remain committed to CE and their new ventures are nothing short of jaw droppingly awesome.  And the NDIS promises to radically reform the disability service industry in Australia.  And, an old comrade (JB - the manager who hired me to come out to Australia back in 2003) called to give me some important news -- CE run by conductors will be funded by the "Better Start Early Years" funding initiative -- seriously?!?! -- government funded CE in Australia?!?! totally out of the blue awesome again!  The entire document is worth reading but if your attention span prefers, the CE mention is on page 9:  http://www.fahcsia.gov.au/sa/disability/progserv/people/betterstart/Documents/operational_guidelines_spp.pdf

I only have vague understanding of the implications of these opportunities; I have ideas; I can see the forest but I'm one for counting the trees and the whole picture and the details are just not there yet.  And as patience is my missing virtue, it is hard to sit back and let things fall into place, especially when that wind is blowing; like I said, a happy dog, with his head out the window, sniffing out opportunities.  Like a kid at an amusement park, excited and overstimulated, ready to get off of this ride and onto the next but not patient enough to wait in line.  C'mon Lisa.  Let's go.

"This indecision's bugging me..."

--The Clash  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LZBPu7jJbJU

"Always look on the bright side of life..."

Dear Shane --

I've just come home from your funeral -- I have to say, you would have loved it.  There were so many people there that the entire side courtyard beside where there service was was filled, and people were sitting in the aisle and standing in the vestibule.  Your mom kept busy consoling everyone else and taking care of KD.  She managed to find a wonderful celebrant who made people laugh and smile.  Jordy and the other readers read pieces that reflected your humour and spirit.  The eulogies from Laura and your Auntie Joanne were full of beautiful 'Shane-isms' that reminded everyone about what is important in life, about what knowing you helped us know, and people laughed out loud through their tears and applauded the speakers.  And even special little treats to make a conductor happy -- Eddie walking all of the way to the front to place his flower, CW and KD driving their chairs independently again.  And, thank you very much Shane and James Valentine,  I'm still singing "always look on the bright side side of life" -- and if I'm singing it so should everyone else, right?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WlBiLNN1NhQ

Beautiful music, beautiful music.


At the end of the service the celebrant spoke about how one of the things that grieving people do is give themselves a hard time about would haves and could haves and should haves -- and it is so true.  Earlier this week I found myself wondering if there was something I could have taught you through CE that would have made a difference, that could have helped you.  I spoke to KD, who was also giving herself a hard time, and consoled myself while I consoled her.  It isn't about what would have and could have and should have been done, there is no fault or blame; it was your time.  We are saddened; so very very saddened; but as you would have wished, today our hearts were filled with love and joy as were were reminded how precious life is.

The celebrant urged us to remember and to share -- and I found myself remembering our time together in CE -- you and your mom and Jordy and Greg and Rebecca and me rolling around on the floor, you directing traffic and trying to stay out of the way to avoid being crushed as we all tried to figure how to get Greg back on his back; you and Greg laughing at me in my twisted yoga positions trying to facilitate between you both at the same time, the sessions when it was just you and your mom and me, with you teaching us both how to facilitate certain movements and stretches, and telling us to push more and reassuring us that we weren't hurting you.  I found myself remembering the mature, adult conversation we had when you told me that you knew that you could still benefit from CE, but after a long day of bus rides and CAS, and with your cough being what it was, you weren't looking forward  to CE in the evenings, and that you found Bowen more beneficial because you could relax with it.  I agreed that taking a break was probably the best thing.  And then we had a hilarious 'discussion' about who would be the one to have to tell your Mom.

And I thought about Fighting Chance http://www.fightingchance.net.au/home.html -- a charity set up in memorandum of your dad and now your legacy -- 'because everyone deserves a fighting chance'.  I hope you know how many people have already been helped and how many more people will be helped because your mom and loves you so much that she is willing to fight to make the world a better place for other people and their families; her love for you extends far beyond you and allows her to empathize, reach out to, and love so many others.  I am so grateful that through you and CE I have found myself included in this embrace -- she is an amazing woman Shane.  Please keep an eye on her from wherever you are.  Some people wonder how they can possibly make a difference, get overwhelmed, and end up doing nothing -- but not your mom Shane -- she loves you so much that she moves mountains while everyone else stands around wondering if there is a pebble small enough that they can throw.  And with Jordy and Laura fighting at her side the vastness of your legacy is still to be seen.  Today at your funeral, in true civil riot spirit, we sang "we shall overcome" -- and as we were reminded to support Fighting Chance and Kairos I, like so many others in the room, felt my commitment to you, to your family, and to your legacy Fighting Chance.

 "Take up our quarrel with the foe:     

To you from failing hands we throw 

The torch; be it yours to hold high."

-- John McCrae

I'm heading home to visit my family in Canada tomorrow -- I was so sad to say goodbye to you today Shane, but I am so glad that I could be at your funeral.  You have reminded me to hug everyone just a little bit longer and to enjoy every precious moment.  So Shane, since you loved music so much, here is some Canadian music for you.  This Neil Young song always makes me homesick but in a nice way --  ..."dream, comfort, memory to spare, and in my mind I still need a place to go, all of my changes were there...".  For me, it is about the sweet pain of memory, and about coming home, and about change, and about embracing the helplessness we all feel about life sometimes; when K.D. Lang first sang it, it was because Neil Young was sick and she was filling in for him.  In her introduction she talks about him as someone who has maintained his integrity and his uncompromising vision and purity -- in this spirit I dedicate it to you and to your Mom.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L5KRVtjgMkM