Month: October 2023

Posted in Contemplations, Gratitude

Easing Into Woo-woo

Posted on by Nancy Malcolm
Yosemite 2023

            It didn’t happen until much later in life, for me. 

Being born in Amarillo didn’t really prepare me to be open-minded or New-Agey, but I’ve lived in Austin for twenty-five years now, and I’ve discovered a thing or two about being woo-woo.  According to the Oxford Dictionary, Woo-woo is relating to or holding unconventional beliefs regarded as having little or no scientific basis, especially those relating to spirituality, mysticism, or alternative medicine.

            My friends and family are done with me posting pictures of the cardinals that visit our backyard.  My captions always refer to my mother popping in to let me know she’s thinking about me.  It’s not that I really believe my mother is reincarnate as a cardinal; it’s that I think her spirit is giving me a sign that she’s near and sending her love.

            In general, I think there are no coincidences.  Everything has a purpose and meaning, and I can see the ‘extra’ in this world and appreciate the nod that the universe sends me.  The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous talks about it on page 449:  “And I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing, or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment.  Nothing, absolutely nothing happens in God’s world by mistake.”  Woo-woo? I don’t think so.

            I have two crystals hanging near the window in my office, not only because of the beautiful colors they reflect but also because of their energy.  A clear quartz crystal is called a ‘stone of the mind.’  It is supposed to help you focus and concentrate.  It harmonizes and balances.  It unblocks universal energy.  Woo-woo!

            “It’s a rock,” Boo says.

            “You just have to believe,” I say back.

            “I believe it’s a rock,” he said with a smile.

            Even though I embrace the woo-woo in life, I have to admit I’m a little conflicted about Psychics, Fortune Tellers, and Mediums.  I want to believe in it, and while I am drawn to their supposed superpowers, there is a part of me (that old Southern Baptist part) that thinks only God knows the future.

            Once, my daughter Lee and I went to see Teresa Caputo, The Long Island Medium.  Her show was in a convention center with hundreds of other people, all hoping to connect with a departed loved one.  The air was electric with anticipation and possibly spirits hoping their families were in attendance.  “I need a glass of wine,” I said, as the lights dimmed, and Teresa took the stage.  But, after her brief introduction, she left the stage and began to walk through the audience.  I started to get nervous thinking, what if she stops at us? Or What if no spirits want to connect with us, or what if they do and I ugly cry while on the jumbotron?

            As you can see, perhaps my mind was not in the calm, receptive state it should have been, and Teresa did not stop for us.  We were disappointed, but there were ten other lucky people who connected to their loved ones on the other side.  Woo-woo? Possibly.

            Through the years I have tried my hand at meditation.  I’ve always heard that prayer is talking to God and meditation is listening to what God has to say.  In the beginning, I read a few books about how to meditate.  I found a calm, quiet place to sit, set a timer, and started my slow deep breaths.  At first, all I could manage was three to four minutes, but eventually, I got up to ten.

            Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Thien Buddhist monk, lived his whole life in mindfulness and peace.  He wrote many books, hoping to bring others to peace, serenity, love, and compassion.  One of his more famous quotes is used in all forms of meditation: “Breathing in, I calm my body and mind.  Breathing out, I smile.  Dwelling in the present moment I know this is the only moment.”  And while I know I’m nowhere near monk meditation status, I can feel the settling peace even five minutes can bring.  Woo-woo?  Maybe.

            Unfortunately, Boo doesn’t quite share my affinity for Woo-Woo.

            “You OK, Boo?” he says as he pops his head in my closed office door. (Yes, he calls me Boo, too.)

            Without opening my eyes, I whisper, “I’m meditating.”

            “I thought you were asleep or something.  Hey, really quick, do we have any scotch tape?”

            “It’s in the junk drawer in the kitchen,” I whisper.

            “OK, thanks.  Sorry to bother you,” he whispers back.

Japanese Tea Garden, Golden Gate Park

            This summer on our fabulous trip to Yosemite, we often took moments to ponder the beauty of this glorious park. We would sit upon a fallen tree, or perch on a rock near a river, and just soak in the peace and the beauty.  I could actually feel something magical and healing from the mountains and waterfalls of Yosemite. It’s a spiritual experience.  While on the trip, I found a book that truly explains the glory of being in nature.  The book is entitled “Forest Bathing.”

            Forest bathing is the Japanese mindfulness practice, Shinrin-yoku.  The emotional, physical, and spiritual benefits of slowing down and taking in the natural world.  It helps you reconnect with nature’s tempo and serene beauty.  It has nothing to do with wallowing in water surrounded by trees.  In reality, it’s the act of being among trees, absorbing the ambiance of a forest.  Escaping to the outdoors is nature’s antidote to being too busy and hectic.  It is the epitome of self-care.  It is scientifically proven to help us think more clearly and to improve our overall well-being.  Aristotle said, “Nature does nothing uselessly.”  Nature is perfection.  Woo-woo?  I don’t care if it is.

            I have a dear friend who is going through a terribly rough time.  As we talk, I try to be more of a listener.   I want to be the ‘easy friend,’ a good listener, never wagging a finger with you should’s, or you better.  Occasionally, I can’t stop myself and I’ll offer up something that works for me.  “Have you ever thought about keeping a journal?  Sometimes it helps me to write down my feelings,” I share.

            “I did buy a journal.  I’m writing things down as they happen,” she said.

            “Maybe you could go back to yoga or try meditating.  Have you ever tried counseling?” I offer at another time.

            “I’ll start with the journal, Nan.  I’m easing into Woo-woo,” she smiled.

            And that, my friends, is the sum of all I wanted to say.  Ease into whatever you believe is leading you to be a better, calmer version of yourself.   Prayer, meditation, journaling, or mediums…Cardinals that remind you of family, or a long, peaceful walk among the trees. All that matters is the connection to peace and compassion for yourself and others.     Open your mind and embrace the wonderful world of Woo-woo.

I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown,

For going out, I found, was really going in.

John Muir, (The Father of our National Park System)

Mariposa Grove of Giant Sequoias, Yosemite National Park 2023 (Me & Boo)

Posted in Contemplations, Death and Dying, Family, Friendship

Showing Up by Ginger Keller Gannaway

Posted on by gingerkellergannaway

You can't make this s*!# up.


Last night I rewatched Kelly Reickart’s movie Showing Up. Focusing on two artists   preparing for their upcoming shows in a northwestern town, the narrative follows both friend and family drama. As Lizzy creates colorful ceramic girls, Jo works with textiles and string to design installments that towered around and above observers. Poetic scenes of other artists working at the local art school are interspersed with the two main characters who live next door to each other and clash over plumbing problems and the care of a pigeon with a broken wing. With the art world as its backdrop, the film has Lizzy and Jo support each other in different ways. From appreciating each other’s work to sharing the care of the pigeon, they show up.

On a sunny day in late May, I watched my son play volleyball in Zilker Park with the high school tennis team he coaches – an end-of-the-year celebration for his students. I sat at a picnic table loaded with cupcakes covered in red, white, and blue frosting,  platters of cut-up fruit, bags of chips, gallons of water and Hawaiian punch, two boxes of mango popsicles and a five-foot tall plastic bag of popcorn from the movie theater where one of the teens worked. The sun came in and out behind gray clouds that contemplated rain. After energetic volleyball games where the players got covered in sand, sweat, and good cheer, the teens joined me at the picnic table to eat the melting popsicles and cupcakes.

Showing up is a true sign of love. I go to weddings, funerals, birthdays, and graduations not for the cake or prayers or confetti but to show support for those I love during life’s joyful and sorrowful times.


Evan made a speech about the team’s accomplishments before explaining he and his co-coach’s version of participation awards: individualized Pokemon cards for each student!  They had designed  these laminated cards with the Pokemon logo on one side and a photo of the student with  his/her Pokemon stats on the other. Kids had names like “Warrior Doubles Player” and “Sassy Server.” A tall senior told Evan the card was the best school “award” he’d ever received.
I had not been looking forward to hanging outside that sweltering afternoon, but I loved watching my son’s tennis players celebrate with each other. Showing up might start out as a chore, yet the people I show up for always make me realize I made the right decision. 

Shar (co-tennis coach) and Evan

When my youngest sister died suddenly in 2004, the ordeal became a blur of nightmares that left me gulping for air as my family planned for the saddest day of our lives. Except for the Sam Cooke recording of “I Am a Pilgrim” that Gayle convinced a priest to allow us to play as we exited the church, the funeral mass and home visitation stuff felt robotic, cold. Later when mourners filled Grandma’s house and spilled out onto the front porch and backyard, I remember seeing people who surprised me with their presence. So many from New Orleans and other cities Kelly had left her mark on showed up in our small hometown. Gayle’s closest friend flew in from California, and when I said to him, “Danny, I can’t believe you came all this way,” he told me, “Gayle would do the same for me.” Most of that day’s memories are hazy, but I do remember seeing Steve, Kelly’s former boyfriend who was as sweet and calm as he was creative and handsome. He gave me a smile that for a second made me feel safe.

Kelly at Christmas

In 2009  after my middle son had a horrendous accident that required a six-week stay in the hospital, my Sittin’ Ugly Sistahs showed up in the ICU waiting room. Throughout Casey’s painful weeks filled with countless surgeries, I sat by his bedside. Friends dropped off food and gave me comfort. Gayle arranged for our immediate family to come to Austin to celebrate Christmas that December while Casey was still hospitalized. 

Sittin’ Ugly Sistahs

Years later, family and friends braved the Texas heat to attend Casey’s outdoor wedding after COVID had cancelled their first choice for a November marriage. Gayle and Kelly’s best friend Mark flew in early to help with the rehearsal supper and the big day’s set-up of tables and decorations. Around midnight as we loaded our cars with wedding gifts and dirty tablecloths, Gayle told me, “I’m glad I came for Casey’s wedding, but this shit was hard!” Despite the scorching temperatures and stressful work, she and Mark had showed up.

Last June Gayle’s husband died from systemic heart disease. I got a one way ticket to New York as soon as I could. Our nephew Ryan and his wife Kelly flew into New Jersey for the funeral. Friends from out-of-state came up as well. Of course, Danny was there. I stayed two weeks and helped Gayle as best I could as a steady flow of friends and work associates showed up.

Me, Mark, & Danny showing up for Gayle

When death happens, we can be at a loss: “I don’t know what to say.” We don’t have to say anything. Just show up and give the grieving person a hug, a sad smile, a nod, a box of brownies. Taking the time to drive, fly, or walk there means more than we know. Showing up announces, “I care about you.” Even if we can’t ease their suffering, showing up helps the ones with the holes in their hearts, the fog in their brains, and the confusion in their souls. Sharing sadness is not as easy as bringing presents or making champagne toasts, but showing up matters to those we show up for. Only in-person can we give someone a hug that will last longer than a card or a text message. Messages and gifts might mean we’re thinking of those we care about, but showing up means we’d risk highway driving or airport stress to be in the room where life is happening. We show up.