Category Archives: healing

Free to Be Me

My blog was partly prompted by an affirmation by Louise Hay from Heal Your Body: “My mind is gentle and powerful. I love and approve of myself. I am free to be me.” It is the last sentence that especially resonates. Free to be me. Free to make mistakes or mis-steps. Free to learn as I go, not have to know it all. Free to forgive and let go of judgment, silence the harsh, critical voice.

This week I was late to an appointment. It was a long distance, driving in a fog and torrential downpour, with thunder, lightening and small hail. (The second-most rain in Chicago in February in 138 years, the equivalent of 20 inches of snow!) I worked on conscious deep breathing and tried not to look at the clock. By the time I arrived I was mad at myself, mildly berating myself that I had not left home earlier, etc. Not as extreme as in the past, but not happy or calm. Worried that the chiropractor (a delightful woman) would be ticked off, disappointed in me, not able to see me, etc. I don’t think any of this showed on my outside, I tried to laugh it off, though I probably seemed somewhat stressed. (The first time I was late I had driven 2 hours through a blizzard for a 40-minute drive.) We joked that there seemed to be something weird about the weather on the Thursdays I was coming.Yet it all worked out. The person before me had more time for her appointment, which she needed, and the woman scheduled after me had cancelled, leaving me a good amount of time for my appointment. When I think I have quieted my inner critical judge, circumstances arise that show me that harsh voice can still be provoked. And then forgiveness, and humor, and moving on…

Every poem I write is different, its own entity. Over almost 14 years of writing my poetic journal, my writing has changed a lot. My writing voice has developed and matured (I like to think). Something about this poem is different, maybe more revealing or something. I realized I was holding back, not wanting to reveal too much. This is a poem I have been reading to people (including my chiropractor) and I wanted to let it go, not hold back.

2/14/09

Floating On Sitar Notes and Drum Beats

(dinner at The Peacock on Valentine’s)

So much done to the body.
So much stored in the body.

The body a map of the past,
the snake entwined around Eve.

The body: the sitar, the lotus, the onion,
the pond to swim in, and the fish swimming.

The foam in the cup,
the gyrations of dance,

the main course,
not so much dessert.

The color red as it
plays on the water,

the helium balloon,
the red rubber ball,

the accelerating rhythm,
the glint on sheer glass,

baby’s breath and
tiny ruby carnations.

It is amplified,
it is sober and still,

plays well with others,
puts dirty feet on the table.

The body is the flying horse,
the sparkle on new snow,

it is a glass full
and a glass empty.

It is payment for services,
it is the nourishment taken in,

it is the pen and the words
and the hopefulness.

It is less like soap
and more like anise seeds,

more a home, than a prison.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2009

Walking Wounded

Around this time last year, a dear friend who is from Poland told me a story about close friends of hers who also came to the US from Poland. They had a bright son who grew up here and loved all things American. He went off to war in Iraq and came back physically OK, but mentally and emotionally damaged, not able to sleep, not able to function, one of the walking wounded. I gave him my book and told his family about Belleruth Naparstek’s powerful guided imagery for helping to heal PTSD (https://www.healthjourneys.com/). Within an hour of hearing his compelling story, I had written a poem/song which I later sent to him with a note. Even though the war in Iraq may be winding down, it is important to remember that those who died were not the only casualties.

February 25, 2008
Dear M.:

I wanted you to know I believe in healing. I have had personal experience in healing from multiple sclerosis, cancer, depression, and panic attacks. I cannot know what you have been through, but when S. told me a bit of your story, this song came to me for you. I do not have the melody yet, perhaps you may write one some day. I wish the best for you. You can find more about my story on my website. I have not written about my latest healing from cancer, but that will come. You have my book and I know you are a powerful healer. Keep on. You will find your way.

Love, Margaret

2/11/08

Walking Wounded

For M.

There are those who didn’t come back
and those who came back but didn’t come home
and those who came home but were never the same,
the walking wounded. This song is for all of them.

Immigrant family from Poland,
bright son believed in the US of A,
went into the military
to get money for school.

And now he’s broken…
no college in his future,
just trying to get through one more day.

He was the smart one,
always got good grades,
always laughing, joking,
promising future stretched out before him.

And now he’s broken, broken…
no college in his future,
just trying to get through one more day.

He figured how hard could it be,
four years and out
money in hand,
then he was sent to Iraq.

And now he’s broken, broken, broken…
no college in his future,
just trying to get through one more day.

And what he saw there
no man can understand,
no heart can withstand.
And what he heard and tasted and smelled
he cannot forget like
shrapnel embedded in his memory,
shrapnel embedded in his cells.
He cannot remember normal,
he cannot find his way back.

And now he’s broken…
no college in his future,
struggling to get through one more day.

Pray for this young man
that he find healing,
pray for his family and friends.

Pray for this one man
and all the countless others
wounded by this latest senseless war.

And learn.
And remember.
And remember.
And learn.

And now we’re broken …
no money for our future,
just trying to get through one more day.

Pray for all the walking wounded
to whatever God you believe in:
pray, pray, pray,
it’s all the same to me.

We are all in this together
whether or not we walk hand in hand,
in whatever ways we differ
in more ways we are the same.

Wake up, wake up people
do what can be done,
do not believe those who don’t believe
in peace for everyone.

Pray for this young man
that he find healing,
pray for his family and friends.

Pray for this one man
and all the many others
wounded by this senseless war.

And learn.
And remember.
And remember.
And learn:

Never again.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2008

Note: I picked the photo above (healing daisies) before I realized that my friend from Poland had given the flowers to me when I was healing from a double mastectomy last year. Interesting how things come full circle.

Second note: In a recent email newsletter, Belleruth Naparstek mentioned research findings that showed her guided imagery CD, Stress Hardiness Optimization, (which is less intense than her Healing Trauma CD), is helpful for soldiers in reducing PTSD symptoms.

Honoring The Body

Sometimes I feel at odds with my body or frustrated or discouraged or disappointed. So much has happened to me. I wrote the first poem below after the lessons of breast cancer treatment and recovery, the second one just before another cancer diagnosis nine years later. During rough times, I may read it aloud to myself. Perhaps you have those times too.

Let the Body Speak

if it wants rest…
give rest,

if it wants motion…
give motion.

Do not nag or numb,
poke or prod,
just listen

to the ancient wisdom
spoken in language
older than any other.

Let the Body speak
in quiet, even tones,

let the Body speak
without shouting in anger

at such long neglect,
at such secondary status.

We inhabit this particular Body,
which is in our care,

for good reason,
not to frustrate us

with tests we can’t pass,
not to beat on mercilessly

“no pain, no gain,”
but to protect our luminosity,

to enjoy, to love, to grow with.
Let the Body speak

and then listen
and act on its behalf.

The Body knows precisely
what it needs, just ask…

and listen.
Be gentle, approaching

as you would a wary puppy;
put out your hand and edge closer.

The Body is familiar with deceit,
with promises made and not kept.

Trust will take time to build;
it is so easy to fall back

into old familiar patterns.
But I tell you this:

we will not regain full power
until the Body is an equal partner.

Let the Body speak…
and listen.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 1998

 

4/22/07

Love and Only Love

Love with every stroke of the shaver,
with every lather of soap, slather of lotion, love.

Not impatience, not frustration, not disgust
at varicose veins, sags, wrinkles, scars,

but love,
with every look, every caress

at the power, the strength,
the beauty of this body in my care.

Love with every glance in the mirror
every wry smile, every tear.

Love, love and only love.
Yes, other thoughts slip in,

let them slip out,
no recrimination, no justification.

Love with every stroke,
healing in my touch, breath

and blink of an eye.
Love, love and only love.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2007

“Let the Body Speak” is from As Easy as Breathing

Also recorded on my CD, Full Blooming: Selections from a Poetic Journal   Listen here

Purpose

Let me tell you a story:

To set the stage: It was 1997. I was exhausted after surgery to remove two breast tumors, followed by chemotherapy. Weeks of extensive radiation left my neck and torso badly burned. The radiologist suggested I take a short break to heal. I struggled with the decision of whether to permanently stop treatment. How could I make a balanced, potentially life-altering decision when I was so off balance? I talked, I wrote, I read, I mulled, and I listened. I cried out to the Universe for help. And I paid attention. Here was an immediate response:

2/10/97

A Messenger

A man came to my house today
to fix a sump pump
and replace the battery.

He was heavy-set, wearing
smoke-filled work clothes,
spoke kindly and worked well.

He talked of a sister who had died
of breast cancer and of her last year,
“Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease.”

How clearly
I can occasionally
see;

so fearful of death,
I start to believe in
limited view and limited options,

and lose hope
and lose heart.
I deserve better.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 1997

From As Easy as Breathing: Reclaiming Power for Healing and Transformation.

Sometimes the most ordinary people in our lives can help us, if we pay attention. His comment, “Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease,” unintentionally supported my decision to stop radiation. Three years later, I mentioned the poem to him and gave him a copy, since he seemed open to it.

Years went by. When he came again to replace the sump pump battery, I mentioned that “A Messenger” was in my book. This is what he told me: Three years ago, when he read the poem I gave him, he saw himself differently and was inspired to stop smoking! He had been a heavy smoker and had not had a cigarette in two and a half years. Three more years passed and when he came again, he said that he had been thinking about that poem and had recently given a copy to a friend who smoked. Amazing!

So this is what I want to say to you: Doing art, in whatever form, from that deep, honest, heartfelt place, can heal, inspire and move—you and others—in ways you do not control or even intend. I suspect there are many people like me who grew up feeling cut off from creative expression. As my story shows, that rift can be mended with awesome results. Hang in there!

And tell me your healing stories…

Adapted from an article in 2004 in WomanMade News, the newsletter of the Woman Made Gallery in Chicago, IL.

So Much Is Better, But…

Over the years, I’ve healed from a lot of medical stuff including eczema, MS, depression, breast cancer, heart arrhythmia, etc. I am now dealing with an umbilical (belly button) hernia. Twice it was repaired surgically. The repairs held, but then another area weakened with a hole larger than the previous one. Not good.

My approach to healing body-mind-emotions-spirit (all as one) is multi-faceted and practical. I have successfully done this kind of healing work for 15 years. In this case, I used healing energy (Reiki), acupressure, and affirmations from Louise Hay (Heal Your Body). For hernia: “My mind is gentle and harmonious. I love and approve of myself. I am free to be me.” Lovely and calming to say out loud, don’t you think?

I looked back to examine possible contributing factors, to root out the source of the problem, not just eliminate symptoms. As usual, I researched, meditated, consulted my inner wisdom, read, and found healing partners to help me. I consulted with Renee B., a digestive specialist recommended by three different people in one week. The Universe was speaking and finally I paid attention. Under the guidance of the very talented Dr. Lisa, (recommended by a friend) I took herbal and homeopathic supplements. I made changes in food, exercise, breathing, and attitude. I listened to guided imagery CDs by Belleruth Naparstek for heart and digestion. I monitored my blood pressure and worked on getting to bed earlier, my special bugaboo.

This was a lot to do; I was highly motivated. But a few days ago, an “Ah ha” moment. All this healing work is good. And now I need to be where I am, and stop looking backwards. To find the answer and the healing I seek, I need to flow with “The River.” In other words, let go and go forward.

In some sense, what this hernia feels like to me is being pregnant. So here is the poem (and the hope) that came out of that image.

2/11/09

Expecting

What am I pregnant with,
what is gestating obviously,
awaiting delivery or expression?

What metaphor allows the body
to be released from the bump,
the half bowling ball,

stuck out from my middle?
I refuse to believe
or even to entertain the possibility

that there is no meaning,
that peeling the onion layers
results in tears and release

but not healing.
All things are possible even if
not reasonable, not probable.

Over and over darkness
has come to and through me,
not like inevitable night follows day,

but dark like an eclipse of the sun,
dark like ash from a volcano
obliterating summer from the planet,

dark like an expanding black hole
that sucks in all light.
And to even remember sunrise

takes extreme effort of will
or patience or trust or faith.
And yet…every time

darkness lifts when
mysteriously the time is right,
and this miracle, this golden

egg is laid at my feet.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2009