🧘 Zen and the Art of Caregiver Maintenance 🪷

Also in this edition: Meet Auguste Deter, the first person diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease; get a free consultation (if you hurry); do you know what compassion REALLY means?

In this edition:

• Caregiver’s Corner: 🧘Zen and the Art of Caregiver Maintenance🪷
• Would You Like a Different Perspective? How to Book a Chat for Free
• šŸ“° This Week in Dementia News šŸ“° 
• ā¤ļøWhat Is Compassion REALLY?ā¤ļø

Caregiver’s Corner: Zen and the Art of Caregiver Maintenance

To put this week’s ā€œCornerā€ in context, you might want to check out this touching news story first. (No worries if you’d rather not: you’ll still get the idea. But it’s a really nice article.) šŸ˜‰Then come back and we’ll keep going: How Poetry Helps Dementia Caregivers Find Shelter from the Storm (KQED)

From the article:
Panicked that she would forget how to write her own name, Matsue penned her signature again and again and again in notebooks, Kakugawa recounted to a group of older adults at a Sacramento community center last October.

During the event, Kakugawa read from her poem, ā€œFive Notebooks.ā€

Five notebooks, one hundred sheets,
Two hundred pages, twenty two lines per page.
Twenty two thousand Matsue Kakugawa.
Twenty two thousand attempts
To save herself from the thief
Who was stealing her name.

I’m doing a different kind of ā€œCornerā€ this week, inspired by this article. It’s a little more personal and conversational. It’s probably a little more philosophical. At the end of the section, I’m attaching a poll: love it or hate it? Let me know.

Good poetry has always made me go weak in the knees, and this one really punched me in the gut, both for Matsue — the mother who was afraid to forget how to write her name — and for the daughter, Frances Kakugawa, who bore witness to her mother’s struggles.

ā€œTwenty-two thousand attempts/to save herself from the thief/who was stealing her name.ā€ I think of my own mother’s apartment, cluttered with sticky notes telling her what was in every drawer and cabinet. Notes stuck on the inside of the front door reminding her what she had to do today. She knew there was a thief in her home, stealing from her as well.

I love, too, that she sees that small thing — her mother writing her name — and identifies it as the large thing it really is: writing her name 22,000 times isn’t just an effort to hold on to a skill, but rather an effort for Matsue to hold on to Matsue.

What Frances Kakagawa really captures here is two forms of self-care and coping. Matsue copes by writing her name. Daughter Frances finds her solace in writing a poem, as have I from time to time.

Here’s the mistake that I think most of us make with self-care: we confuse it with a vacation or an escape. However, truly caring for ourselves means looking inward. Self-care isn’t a distraction from our problems, and I think that’s why most of us tend to do a bad job with it.

Grief won’t go away if we refuse to look at it for long enough. If we slam the door in it’s face every time we see it on our stoop, that just means that our efforts to keep it out will also keep us trapped inside.

There’s a famous saying in Alcoholics Anonymous: ā€œyou’re only as sick as your secrets.ā€ As we see in this article, you don’t even have to tell your secrets to another person. Tell them to the notebook page, or swear your cat to secrecy and tell her everything! Telling, admitting, and acknowledging what has been unspoken is a kind of transformative magic.

This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.

William Shakespeare, Hamlet

15-century Zen Master Ikkyu Sojun wrote the following two-line poem:

I'd love to give you something
but what would help?

It’s a good question. What would help? That rascal Ikkyu — and he was very much a rascal ā€” seems to be asking this question on the grand scale. What could we give to another that would soothe their grief and calm their souls? How could we help the ocean pull back the tsunami?

I’d love for this article to help you, but you’d be better off putting this down and writing a poem for yourself. I’d love to give you something, but what would help?

If you’d travel just a little further with me, I’d like to share my favorite poem with you. It’s also by Ikkyu:

Hearing a crow with no mouth
Cry in the deep
Darkness of the night,
I feel a longing for
My father before he was born.

Ikkyu’s enlightenment experience is said to have come when he heard the call of the crow while meditating in a boat on a lake. If he is recalling that moment in this poem, note that even enlightenment did not settle the yearning that we all face. He still feels longing for something so large that it can only be described in opaque metaphors by a crow with no mouth to call out to him.

When we speak in Zen about someone ā€œbefore he was born,ā€ that is generally a reference to what might be called ā€œessential nature.ā€ The easiest way to put it might be to say that it’s where you were before you were born. Where were you before you existed? In the chain of cause and effect that kicked off the universe billions of years ago and brought you to this newsletter today, where did you come from and who are you really?

Heady stuff, right? But for me this poem cuts perfectly to the heart of the matter. When I talk about self-care, who is this Self I’m talking about? What could someone else give me that could help? The crow might call out to point the way, but it can’t sit on the meditation cushion for Ikkyu, or for me.

The crow didn’t enlighten Ikkyu. Perhaps, however, our feathered friend was a kind of caregiver to him. We might imagine that the crow saw what Ikkyu needed in order to realize for himself. ā€œCaw!ā€ What an excellent teacher.

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Would You Like a Different Perspective?

When I’m buried in my mom’s care, I can’t see the forest for the trees. I need the less enmeshed perspective of a person who isn’t as emotionally invested.

Would you like an outside perspective from an expert? I’m opening up three 30-minute free consults this week. I’d love to hear your story and, if you want, offer my thoughts. I’m also happy to simply listen if that’s what you need.

I’m not doing this to sell you something: that’s why I can only do three. It’s just an authentic offer of assistance.

If you hit the link and the appointment is closed, that means I’m all booked up. This is a new idea I had, so I’m not sure if it will be a hit or a miss. Grab it now: it may not come up again.

šŸ“° This Week in Dementia News šŸ“°

Auguste Deter

Dr. Alois Alzheimer

What Is Compassion Really?

When we talk about compassion, I wonder if we know what we’re really saying? It isn’t being kind or doing something nice. You don’t actually have to do much at all, except for the most difficult thing.

The question of compassion is tied intimately to Ikkyu’s question from today’s Caregiver’s Corner: ā€œI’d love to give you something, but what would help?ā€ I don’t know if Ikkyu would agree with me, but this definition of compassion is — for me — the best gift I have for someone else.

About the author

Hi! I’m Ben, and I’m the author of this newsletter as well as a new book on Amazon: Creating Purposeful Engagement.

Caring for a loved one with dementia can feel overwhelming, especially when it comes to keeping them engaged in daily life. In my new book, Creating Purposeful Engagement, I’ll guide you through practical, reliable strategies to spark meaningful moments of connection—whether through conversation, activities, or shared experiences.

Available now on Amazon—click to get your copy today!

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I’ve been a dementia professional for over 20 years, but the fight against this disease has become much more personal for me as I am engaged in my mother’s journey with Alzheimer’s disease. I started The Dementia Newsletter as well as it’s parent company, elumenEd, to help caregivers — specifically home and family caregivers — gain access to the very best training and information available at an affordable price.

SOME OF THE LINKS IN THIS NEWSLETTER ARE AFFILIATE LINKS, WHICH MEANS WE MAY EARN A COMMISSION IF YOU CLICK AND MAKE A PURCHASE, AT NO ADDITIONAL COST TO YOU. WE ONLY RECOMMEND PRODUCTS AND SERVICES WE TRUST.

At The Dementia Newsletter, we’re dementia professionals but we’re not medical doctors or lawyers. The information provided is for general informational purposes only and should not be considered as medical or legal advice. Always consult with a qualified healthcare professional for medical diagnosis, treatment, or any health-related concerns and consult with a lawyer regarding any legal matters.

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