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How I’m Investing in Self-Care

February 6, 2017 By Sandra Heska King

 

self-care mug

 

Hi. I’m Sandra/Sandy/Snady/SHK, and I’m a Tweetspeak Poetry workshopaholic. I want to believe that the investment I make in these workshops will pay off, that I’ll eventually/someday reap what I sow in terms of my bank account. That may or may not happen. But I’m pretty sure that what I invest in self-care is immeasurable in terms of what my outlay could be in physician-care. I’m also sure that this habit is building better life habits, as well as helping me become a better writer. I love the discipline of a class, the accountability to a group of friends, a safe place to explore life as well as words. I like the idea of becoming more literate and finding more ways to leave some kind of mark when I’m gone. I just turned 68 years old, and the contents of my hourglass continue to diminish.

For the next twelve weeks I’ll be immersed in a workshop called “Tea Time: Writing Our Leaves and Our Lives.” (It just started today, and there’s still room for you. Check it out. There’s an eight-week option, too.) I took a poetry workshop with Megan Willome in the fall, and I couldn’t wait to sign up for this one. (By the way, Megan wrote The Joy of Poetry: How to Keep, Save and Make Your Life with Poems last year. It’s part memoir and part poetry and way good reading for poetry lovers and dislikers alike.)

In this workshop we’ll talk about (and drink!) tea and use it as a vehicle for writing about our lives. That means we’re each keeping a tea journal and every day we’ll share the tea we’re drinking and respond to a tea-related prompt. “Think of it as eight weeks of self-care, tea-style, along with a generous spoonful of story, poetry, and writing.” This week our lesson focuses on water, and I’m thinking even tea-dislikers would enjoy it, maybe even find a tea they liked–or could tolerate. There’s something about tea that makes us slow down. It seems to me we could use more slowing down these days.

Anyway, this morning Megan shared just five sentences from her journal to prompt us. She’d bought some kind of mushroom “tea” at her local farmer’s market with an attached tag that read, “Let tea be thy medicine.” The “tea” was strange, she wrote, but the medicinal value was in trying something new.

I realized when I wrote my response that I might actually have a blog post, so I thought I’d share it here, especially since I’ve been neglecting this space–and you.

I’d gone back to coffee as my first-thing-in-the-morning drink. This morning I overslept. Well, actually, I just dozed on and off from about 5:30 when D got up to about 8ish. I decided, since it was time to start Tea Time, I should start the day with tea. I’m drinking Tazo’s Awake English Breakfast tea, “A breakfast-style black tea of malty boldness & bright flavor, invigorating any time of day.” It’s got 61+ mg of caffeine.

The side of the box reads, “The sun peeks over the horizon through the clouds, a star streaks undetected across the sky and the world begins anew. This bold and flavorful blend of black teas will send you down the day’s path wondering where it will take you and if it’s possible to bring along a friend.”

I’m drinking from Steve’s mug. He potted it and gifted it to me, and I’ve been drinking from it every morning for nearly a year since he told me of his bladder cancer diagnosis. I told him I’d do that as a reminder to pray until he got the all-clear. I guess he did in a sense, since he died a little over a week ago. They say it and his Parkinson’s were both a result of Agent Orange. His memorial is this weekend. Maybe I’ll change cups then–or not. Maybe bold teas call for something more substantial while the lighter teas call for something more fragile. Anyway, his death has hit me pretty hard. I’m not sure exactly why. Maybe regret at having lost touch over the years (we graduated from high school together) and only reconnecting in the last few. Maybe anger over the injustice of his suffering and too-soon passing. Maybe because he’s not the first from my graduating class to die, and the realization that I’ve entered “that season.”

My sister texted me these words when I was walking around with a cloud of sadness hovering over me a few days ago: “I think losing touch just is what it is–just what happens. Everyone goes different directions and starts walking down their own paths. It’s actually a blessing when we’re able to reconnect with someone–a gift we shouldn’t overlook–or beat ourselves up that we didn’t receive it sooner. I supposed there’s truth to getting “that age”–our mortality is more obvious. You need to focus on what a joy it was to see him–to have that keepsake–keeping him in that piece of your heart. Don’t minimize the gift by questioning its timing.” My Sissy is very wise.

The other day I asked a simple question on Facebook and got so many interesting answers–and suggestions of new teas to try. I simply asked, “Do you like tea?” So, do you? If so, what do you like about it? If not, what don’t you like? And have you ever questioned the timing of a gift?

P.S. Tweetspeak Poetry was just named as one of the best 100 websites for writers.

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Comments

  1. Kelly Greer says

    February 6, 2017 at 1:20 pm

    Hi Sandy! Hugs to you dear heart as you grief the loss of your friend. I am 10 years behind you and also watching the hourglass change and counting the losses of so many dear ones. You encouraged me with your sister’s perspective as reconnection is a blessing. And your love for tea and poetry inspire me. I just want to sit with you and drink it all in. Thank you❤

    • Sandra Heska King says

      February 6, 2017 at 2:37 pm

      Hi Kelly,

      My sissy often has a good word that makes me sit up straighter and listen up. I’d love to sit and drink (tea) with you. Hint. Hint.

  2. L.L. Barkat says

    February 6, 2017 at 1:47 pm

    Very sorry to hear of your loss, Sandy. You are near to my heart.

    And this from your sis? How profound: “Don’t minimize the gift by questioning its timing.”

    • Sandra Heska King says

      February 6, 2017 at 2:45 pm

      Dear Laura,

      I know this is a deep grief for Steve’s family and close friend, so it’s hard to claim any of it as mine. But I guess we should never minimize our own sense of loss, either, right? Many small holes add up to big ones. I hear tea and poetry can help heal them. 🙂

      Much love to you.

  3. David Rupert says

    February 6, 2017 at 4:09 pm

    Investing in “yourself” really means to reflect, to observe and to continue to learn.
    We learn through triumph sure, but it is through tragedy that we become most aware of ourselves and our place in this world and the one to come.

    • Sandra Heska King says

      February 6, 2017 at 5:28 pm

      Wise words as always, David. I think investing in self also strengthens us to invest in others. It’s hard to give from an empty well.

  4. Megan Willome says

    February 6, 2017 at 5:04 pm

    Sandy, I’m so thankful you shared about the class (and book), but even more thankful that the class has already prompted you to write something.

    I drink my strong tea in the afternoon, so right now it’s the equivalent of your Awake tea, a breakfast tea from a tea purveyor in Austin.

    • Sandra Heska King says

      February 6, 2017 at 5:35 pm

      Combatting that afternoon slump? Maybe I’ll have to try the old switcheroo on some days, move into the day more serenely? I was glad to have found some stray bags of jasmine tea in the unpacking. It makes a great iced tea and is one way to get the green in.

      This class is just what the doctor would order. Pretty sure.

  5. Ann Kroeker says

    February 6, 2017 at 9:52 pm

    That’s so precious, to be honoring and remembering your friend by sipping tea from a mug formed by his own hands…and you honor him through words, here, too.

    I love your voice, Sandra, and I’m glad you wrote this today. I hope your time with Megan and others in the workshop breathes life into you and continues to give you vision for how to write the rest of your life. Your words, like a mug of just-brewed tea, slow us down.

    • Sandra Heska King says

      February 7, 2017 at 9:01 am

      Thanks so much, Ann. Another thing about this workshop–Megan says it’s balanced. The breathing is meant for business, so she’ll also be kicking our booties. My hope is that in this new place and season, I’ll finally be able to pour out what’s been steeping from past workshops, yours included.

      I miss you.

  6. Martha Orlando says

    February 7, 2017 at 11:21 am

    So sorry to hear of your friend’s passing, Sandy, but so happy that you did reconnect before he went on to be with the Lord.
    This workshop sounds amazing! My favorite tea? I’m not much of a tea drinker, but I do love a cup of Sleepytime Peach on a cold, blustery day. (Not too many of those in Florida, I take it.)
    And I, for one, have sure missed your writing. Hope you will be back here more frequently in the next eight weeks.
    Blessings!

    • Sandra Heska King says

      February 7, 2017 at 2:22 pm

      Have you checked out the workshop? I’d love if you could join in. I’ll bet they’d still let you.

      No, not too many cold, blustery days in South Florida. It gets colder in North Florida where my son is and where he has decided we will retire–if D ever does. I dunno… my bones are getting creakier. 😉

      I’m hoping to set a new course–or at least a determined course in my writing this year. Here’s hoping for lack of stumbling blocks. I am so grateful for your encouragement.

      Sleepytime Peach sounds yummy. I’ll bet it would be good iced, too…

  7. Lux G. says

    February 10, 2017 at 2:34 am

    Wow, this sounds like my kind of workshop. Sipping tea (yes, please!) and writing. Amazing. I think it’s also called paradise. 😀

    • Sandra Heska King says

      February 15, 2017 at 7:03 pm

      Hi, Lux! I’d love if you were part of this. You should watch Tweetspeak Poetry’s offerings.

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Talking with D about his grandfather. One of the f Talking with D about his grandfather. One of the farmhands said Grandpa King was one of the toughest men he ever knew. In the dead of a Michigan winter, he wore a baseball cap instead of a knit hat. In April through October he never wore a shirt.
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Once he was raking hay and while trying to get the rake in gear, he fell against the tractor fender. He finished raking hay. Then for the next two days, he rode on a combine bagging oats, bouncing and breathing in dust and lifting bags. After 3 days, he said, “I don’t feel very good. I’m gonna go to the doctor snd see what’s wrong.” He had two or three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and pneumonia.
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D said he only saw him tear up three times.
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1. When his 19-year-old grandson died from a heart condition.
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2. When D said, “ Goodbye Grandpa. I’ll see you in the spring.” ( D was maybe 11 or 12. ) Grandpa was on his way to FL for the winter and knew he probably wouldn’t be back. He died about a month later.
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3. When he talked about the fact that the hotels in FL would not let black baseball players stay there. That was in the 50s.
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Side effects update - 50 hours post Covid vaccine Side effects update - 50 hours post Covid vaccine #2...
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No chocolate this year. Besides, the neighborhood No chocolate this year. Besides, the neighborhood raccoon we saw up the tree the other night has (had?) a sweet tooth and stole the box the next-door hubby had delivered--took it around the side of their house and ate it all.

Also no flowers or cards. 

Just this. And her name shall be called... drum roll...

We loved all the suggestions. But we also wanted to keep the love connection--and I wanted to let D finally get to choose a name for our 13th (if I've remembered all of them) cat. The rescue named her Valentine, so since she's the only Valentine either of us are getting today, we decided to keep that name--but as a middle name. D has been calling her "Lucy Vallie."

Lucy--for Lucille Ball (I Love Lucy) and her mischief and troublemaking. We've already seen signs of mischief in the shattered antique bottle we'd discovered next to our farmhouse in Michigan. It sat on the windowsill over the bathtub--silly me in having neglected to totally cat-proof--and in the missing top to my contact lens case--that D finally found next to the litter box. 

Also, there's the light-shedding Luci Shaw... whose poetry I love. 

And Lucy Pevensie from the Chronicles of Narnia who superly loved Aslan.

So now we have Lucy the Goose and Lucy Valentine whom we already love and expect lots of love and light and laughs from. And probably lots of mischief. She also has trouble staying still long enough for pictures.

How is Sophie taking to her? Well, they are still pretty much separated. This morning there were some barks and squeals and hisses and growls. But we will get there.

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