Living with Scleroderma

Reflections on the Messy Complexity of Chronicity

resilience

What Comes Next, Comes Next

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The election is over. It is not the result I had hoped for. For now, I am just trying to keep my head on straight and focus on what’s in front of me.

And so, I took a walk Sunday afternoon, in the sharp, unflinching November light that reveals each detail of bark and lichen and crumbled leaf. A friend had mentioned a lake not far away that you can circumnavigate via a pontoon bridge that connects to a woodland trail. The weather was pleasant, not too cool, not too hot. And I needed to clear my head.

It took me about 45 minutes to walk the full route. Water gurgled as it lapped the pontoon bridge, a popular attraction for families pushing strollers. A gaggle of teen boys asked me to take their photo against a backdrop of sun-illumined lake. Children ran ahead of their parents, delighting in the novelty of walking across water. Others whined until they were picked up and carried by moms, “just for a little while.”  The woodland walk was less traveled, peaceful, more conducive to sifting and sorting my emotions.

What struck me most, however, along the whole route, was the number of different languages I overheard. That, and the friendly greetings of strangers. Whatever the outcome of this election, we are a big-hearted country made up of people from all over the world who call America home. Many of us, myself included, are children of immigrants and, yes, refugees. Whatever happens, we must remember that. Our diversity, our generosity, our kindness—these are our true strengths.

Here are some photos. Hope you enjoy.

Evelyn Herwitz blogs weekly about living fully with chronic disease, the inside of baseballs, turtles and frogs, J.S. Bach, the meaning of life and whatever else she happens to be thinking about at livingwithscleroderma.com. Please view Privacy Policy here.

Coping Strategy

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Stress is contagious this Election Day. If you google “how to avoid election anxiety,” you’ll find a plethora of articles with titles like “Last-minute tips for coping with election stress and anxiety” or “Don’t let election anxiety get you down” or even “I’m a Therapist: Here’s How I’m Coping With Election Anxiety.”

Most of the tips are common sense:

  • Be mindful. Focus on the present moment.
  • Limit your intake of political news, polls, and social media.
  • Practice self-care. Pursue activities that give you joy.
  • Worry less. Do more to support your candidate in constructive ways that work for you.
  • Breathe.

I’m trying to do all these things. But I am also a political news junkie. For me, being as informed as possible via a range of trusted sources helps me to feel ready for whatever comes next. This is not for everyone. But it’s just the way I’m wired.

At the same time, I am also doing my best to focus on what’s in front of me. Editing for my clients is a great meditation. Working on Novel 2 is a dive into the world of my imagination, where time is suspended. Cleaning the house brings the satisfaction of putting things in order that are within my control. Taking walks clears my head. Watching anything that makes me laugh refreshes my heart. Reading great novels is an essential escape, as well as an immersion in another writer’s art. On Monday nights, I’m back to my acting class, which is wonderful.

Hugs help, too.

So, Dear Reader, sending you good karma and serenity for today and whatever comes next. If you haven’t yet, be sure to vote. See you on the other side.

Evelyn Herwitz blogs weekly about living fully with chronic disease, the inside of baseballs, turtles and frogs, J.S. Bach, the meaning of life and whatever else she happens to be thinking about at livingwithscleroderma.com. Please view Privacy Policy here.

Image: Phil Hearing

Seeking Serenity

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We’re enjoying a short spate of glorious weather here in Central Massachusetts—lots of sunshine, azure skies, trees cloaked in flaming colors, comfortable days and crisp nights. A few days ago, I woke early and noticed that the moon had not yet set in the west. It glowed like a golden spotlight in the soft dawn, before the sun had risen. Just beautiful.

I’m trying to stay focused on these daily wonders and not go down the rabbit hole of my iPhone—all too tempting during this fraught run-up to the presidential election on November 5. I find it hard not to read everything I can about the potential outcome, all the twists and turns of the final weeks of campaigning, in a vain hope of divining the result ahead of time. It’s ridiculous, I know. Still, I scroll.

I am deeply, deeply worried about the outcome.

And so, I pray every day to find the calm in the eye of the storm. Maintaining serenity is the only way for me to think clearly. Not easy to do right now. But it’s also the only way to keep myself healthy. Meditation helps. So does taking walks in beautiful weather. And reminding myself of all the many, small miracles of existence that are so easy to take for granted.

So I pass this along to you, Dear Reader, in hopes that it will help you to find your own peace of mind in these complex and chaotic times. Be well.

Evelyn Herwitz blogs weekly about living fully with chronic disease, the inside of baseballs, turtles and frogs, J.S. Bach, the meaning of life and whatever else she happens to be thinking about at livingwithscleroderma.com. Please view Privacy Policy here.

Bucket List Visit

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I have loved the art of Paul Klee for decades. His whimsy, brilliant use of color, and evocative abstract works are an endless source of fascination and inspiration. He is also a personal hero. During his last five years, Klee lived with scleroderma—and despite physical limitations, this was his most prolific creative period.

Born in Switzerland in 1879, raised in Bern, Klee studied art in Munich and eventually settled there in 1906. His imaginative works and art theory grew out of his involvement with Der Blaue Reiter group of German Expressionists, including Vasily Kandinsky, August Macke, and Franz Marc, as well as his travels to Italy and Tunisia, and his years during the Weimar Republic teaching at the Bauhaus and the Düsseldorf Academy. In 1933, the Nazis dismissed him from his post in Düsseldorf, and he was labeled a “degenerate” artist.

Klee and his wife, Lily, returned to Bern and lived there until he died at age 60 in 1940. I have long wondered if the trauma of exile, losing his close circle of fellow artists and his reputation, as well as the ability to exhibit his work, all contributed to his illness. His symptoms of systemic sclerosis emerged after a bout with the measles. I’ve asked my rheumatologist at Boston Medical about Klee, and while there is no clear answer to how he contracted scleroderma (same for all of us with the disease, even 90 years later), he explained the latest theories are that scleroderma is triggered by a virus. Another theory that I just discovered is that Klee’s exposure to certain chemicals in his oil paints and thinners may have been a contributing factor.

In any case, whenever I go to art museums, I seek out Klee’s works. So, this summer, after our very intense visit to Israel, we traveled to Switzerland for a few days in Bern to visit the Zentrum Paul Klee, the largest collection and archive of his art in the world—a visit at the top of my bucket list. I was hoping to see some of his famous paintings of abstract angels—playful, sorrowful, mysterious, comforting. Unfortunately, none were on display, nor any of his largest paintings. But the standing biographical exhibition did not disappoint, as I discovered some of his smaller works that I had only seen in books. And there were also three of Klee’s wonderful puppets that he made for his son, Felix. After we toured the museum, we walked around the Zentrum grounds, the sculpture garden, and paid our respects to Paul Klee’s grave.

Here are photos of a few of my favorite art works and the museum, as well as Bern from a scenic overlook at a different location. Hope you enjoy the view . . .

Evelyn Herwitz blogs weekly about living fully with chronic disease, the inside of baseballs, turtles and frogs, J.S. Bach, the meaning of life and whatever else she happens to be thinking about at livingwithscleroderma.com. Please view Privacy Policy here.

Choose Humanity

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I am writing on Monday afternoon, October 7, the dark one-year anniversary of the terror attack by Hamas in Israel that launched what now seems like a never-ending war. Twelve-hundred people, mostly Israelis, were slaughtered that day and hundreds taken hostage. There remain 101 hostages in captivity in Gaza, tens of thousands of innocents in Gaza killed as terrorists hide behind civilians, and now the growing risk of regional war in the Middle East.

In September, Al and I traveled to Israel to visit family and also to participate in a peace mission organized by MEJDI, a touring company founded 20 years ago by two friends, an Israeli and a Palestinian. They specialize in dual-narrative tours in conflict zones. Over five intense days, we met with people across the political spectrum to hear their stories, engage in dialogue, and explore paths to a just peace. I am still processing all that I learned and heard.

Among those we met were family members of Israeli hostages, a former Gaza resident, an Arab Israeli journalist for Ha’aretz, members of the Druze and Bedouin communities, a Palestinian Christian minister, a Palestinian bookstore owner in East Jerusalem, refugee advocates, IDF soldiers, and many dedicated peace activists. We visited guests in Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, near Haifa in the north and in the Negev in the south. We attended a massive rally in Tel Aviv to bring the hostages home and achieve a cease fire. We had long and meaningful conversations with our fellow tour members of all faiths, as well as our two guides—one, an Israeli whose cousin had been killed on October 7 and whose body is still held hostage in Gaza, and the other, a Palestinian from East Jerusalem who is a medic and was a first responder at the attacked kibbutzim.

There were many points of view, much grief and angst. But the message that resonated across all of our discussions was this: There are two peoples with legitimate claims to the same land, who must find a way to live in peace together. The journey is long and hard. Don’t pick sides. Choose humanity.

Evelyn Herwitz blogs weekly about living fully with chronic disease, the inside of baseballs, turtles and frogs, J.S. Bach, the meaning of life and whatever else she happens to be thinking about at livingwithscleroderma.com. Please view Privacy Policy here.