So—the last time Dad threw David a bit too high, instinct, which had spoken to me must have spoken to Grandma, because her body stiffened as her voice rang out, clear as a bell:
Jack! The baby! Stop!
At that, my heart flew into my mouth and with a gasp, I watched Dad catch David, swiftly set him down, spin on his heel and kneel before his mother, grabbing both of her hands in his while exclaiming: Ma! Ma! But as fast as Grandma's lucidity had emerged, it was gone—leaving us reeling in a state of shock.
Though we could not believe what had flashed before our eyes, neither could we let Grandma go. Dad implored his mother's sense of clarity to connect with his by continuing to exclaim—Ma! Ma! It's Jack! It's Jack!—while I cried out—Grandma! Grandma!—to no avail.
Finally, we'd no choice but to give Grandma up for lost. In retrospect, Grandma had not connected with Dad. Grandma's nervous system must have reacted to fear. While stunned agitation coursed through Dad and me, Grandma's body relaxed and her smile returned.
I can't recall how long Dad and I sat, staring at Grandma, our minds utterly blown. Even now, 36 years later, shivers run through me while reflecting over that surrealistic experience of so long ago. The body forgets nothing, and this has not been easy to write. Thoughts of those I love trapped inside their heads makes me very sad.
Evidently, my reaction and Dad's must have bewitched my three sons. Though they'd had less of a clue than we did as to what had transpired, Barry, Steven and David sat, as though super glued to the floor, and without uttering a peep, three pairs of big round eyes moved back and forth between their grandpa's and mine. Makes me wonder if the older two have so much as a glimmer of conscious awareness concerning that experience, which still stirs me deeply, today … I'll have to ask.
Upon reflection, Grandma's basic instinct must have kicked in and switched off quick as lightening flashing through the night sky. And writing this, 36 years after the fact, I'm making a mental note to ask my therapist about that.
I remember feeling exceptionally shaken for the rest of the day
I remember discussing what we'd witnessed while Dad drove us home
I don't remember what we'd said
I do remember being glad that Dad had shared that moment with me
I mean, that moment was so surreal as to question if it had been real
I do remember talking about it with others, then, and years later
I don't remember what others replied, other than matching our disbelief
I believe the startling nature of that experience (coupled with Dad's comatose gibberish, years later) ignited an intuitive quest to deepen my understanding, concerning the complex, interrelated components of the human brain. I mean, from that time on, intuition directed me to believe that Grandma's intelligent mind was locked captive inside her brain. And that someday, medical science would unlock that door for others.
That summer, my book group read and discussed Passages by Gail Sheehy.
In September of that year, I made an appointment to speak to the director of a parent development institute at a local community college—my original intention to enroll in a class; however, our meeting led to her request that rather than taking a class, I teach one—and this passage, concerning my budding interest in mindful self-discovery, opened a door into the depths of me.
Until that time, I'd learned parenting skills to mold my children's behavior. From that time on, my fascination concerning that which science is in the process of learning about our multi-faceted brains felt so intriguing that I began to look at myself, or I should say 'into myself' differently than ever before. Rather than molding my sons, I'd begun to remold myself while consciously modeling attitudes and behaviors I'd hoped they'd embrace as their own.
As attitude is everything, that change in my attitude, in terms of consciously modeling positive attitudes and behaviors, made all the difference in restructuring the emotional atmosphere in our home. Rather than challenging my sons to obey authority, I challenged myself to dust off my imagination in order to create a positive perspective, concerning family life, which proved so contagious that, over time, everyone in our family developed the wisdom to adopt that philosophy as their own. And having taken this time to think about the creative aspects of the problem solving plans that took center stage in our home, I think it's fair to say that each time a plan, invested with positive focus based in common sense, met with success, no one's delight surpassed my own :)
At first, that change in my focus had proved intuitive rather than conscious, suggesting my sixth sense directing my mind to carve out a new path for my family, because in fact, I'd been unaware of the monumental change that had instructed my brain to conduct a layman's research of harnessing emotional energy to work toward bettering the lives of each individual in our family, 'knowing' that each person's positive attitude was instrumental in creating a harmonic home environment as a whole. (If you think I had any clue of writing even one word comprising this explanation, today, please think again. Somehow, intuition has offered my think tank free rein to write this post on it's own, as happens, from time to time :)
As to that shared moment in time with Dad, concerning Grandma's flash of lucidity, I can't remember if we'd discussed the surrealistic nature of that experience, which proved life changing, after that day. Had it happened, today, I'd have researched dementia on the web ... in fact, I may do that very thing.
Often times, while relating significant stories, concerning my family history, listeners say, it's a wonder to think of all you know about your parents' youth. How did that come to be? I smile and respond: Chalk it up to curiosity. I ask a lot of questions. Though I'm known to have a motor mouth, teachers learn by way of reading and listening. So when my tongue tires of wagging in hopes of imparting that which I've learned, I ask questions, open both ears, drink in whatever makes sense, ponder over that which doesn't and ask more questions until, once again, insight hits, inspiring the teacher in me to share that which I've learned, again. This cycle has become as natural as breathing, but instead of air, think knowledge: inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale :)
I guess you could say that my listening acuity had reason to develop, unbeknownst to me, when, as a small child, a traumatic experience with unexpected death, twice in a matter of two months (my Grandpa Yacob and sister, Janet), inspired me to grow intuitively observant, early on. Then later, while raising my sons, I had reason to absorb listening skills, consciously.
In short, I'm naturally interested in every person I meet, because invariably, we all have experiences that differ from one another's, and learning through listening offers me insight into experiences I've not yet had. In this way, common sense suggests steering clear of certain experiences while actively seeking out other experiences, which I'd hoped to embrace as my own—for
example taking up tennis, horseback riding, downhill skiing, disco dancing, tap and tango lessons. Though none of those activities may seem out of the ordinary to you, visualizing this bookworm choosing to partake in those physical activities had been quite a brain stretch from high school days, when I'd taken modified gym. Suggesting yet another passage from limitation to expansion of thought, which precedes redirecting my mind set :)
Though I'm still cautious by nature, I've learned to enjoy life to the fullest without jeopardizing my personal safety or that of my loved ones. Though I may bend rules when intuition suggests that societal boundaries are limiting my need for personal growth, you'll not see me break any rule that safeguards the high principled life I choose for myself.
Yes, my friends say, but getting back to listening acuity, how do you remember so much of what you hear? Well, listening acuity suggests that my mind doesn't wander while others are speaking unless they're droning on and on about a subject which holds no interest for me. Or, if two people, who have been at odds with each other for years, bend my ear with a problem, concerning communications, which does nothing but worsen, because defensive reactions block both from recognizing the depth of each other's distress, eventually, my head actually aches and my spirit sags under the weight of so much unresolved pain for this reason: I have trouble separating compassion from empathy. Part of my need of therapy has been related to learning how to separate myself from acting as a sounding board, overlong, to my emotional detriment, because of my propensity to absorb the pain of my loved ones as my own.
There's a fine line separating a close, healthy relationship from one that's become enmeshed, symbiotic. It's taken years of intensive work to distinguish the pain of others from my own. I'm still not very good at it. Once I recognized how much time and energy I'd spent battling futility, my mantra of NGU changed to NGUOUY—Never Give Up On Understanding Yourself.
In the aftermath of my experience with Grandma Bailey and then with Dad's coma, I came to believe the human brain to be a recorder, suggesting that upon pushing the right button, a certain file opens. (Hence, we don't want anyone to pushing our buttons :) When my recorder, empowered with listening acuity, is in a peaceful state, a detailed memory flows out. On the other hand, if combustible emotion, producing static, is involved, I may prove as confused, forgetful, sad or angry as anyone else. At those times, when taming emotional reactiveness in hopes of resolving conflicts on the spot proves necessary, my Line of Control proves an invaluable mind-calming tool.
If my mind feels peaceful when that which is said to me proves thrilling, shocking or devastating, it's not uncommon for my attentiveness to listening acuity to recall (record) that which affects me, deeply, pretty much verbatim. Not paragraphs, mind you, but sentences, yes.
Today, I wonder at what Grandma Bailey's gibberish may have meant to her—perhaps it had been less nonsensical than anyone had thought. I continue to believe her intelligence had been imprisoned inside—just as our minds hold each of us captive in one way or another—more about that incomplete thought, later …
I guess you could say that my ear tunes into family history the same way that Will's ear feeds his mental recorder sports facts galore. Believe me, you don't want to bet against that portion of his memory. Many have, and so far, all have lost :)
When it comes to recording that which an individual has said to me, my sixth sense is now empowered to 'know' those with whom I'm inherently safe and those with whom I need to remain aware—most especially when it comes to interpreting innuendo. Whereas the former have my best interests at heart, others may manipulate my sense of compassion or shower me with flattery in hopes of inducing me to meet their needs. Though I'd been naive concerning both counts in the past, today, I depend upon listening acuity coupled with intuition to 'know' whom to trust and whom not.
In short, my brain can't fool me as often as it had before my quest into self discovery had gotten underway. And as this quest continues to direct the path of my life, today, my sense of self awareness deepens with each step I take :)
Next up: Jennie, who'd also had reason to grow quietly observant, early on, relied upon intuition to offer Jack clearance to sweep her off her feet—finally :)
