Author: lauraanneayres

Meeting Jean-Marie Lovey in his “home”

Posted on by lauraanneayres

It was 2013 and I was a newbie at the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard. It was a difficult hike up the mountain and my body was suffering the next day.

I very vividly remember the next day, sneaking into the Crypt for some silence and seeing a Canon sitting in a nook playing a bit of music. He glanced in my direction, smiled warmly, and said something in French (probably the same thing I now say if I want to sing something while others around around…“Does my music disturb you?”). I didn’t know what he was saying, I just smiled. He continued.

His music was lovely.

He is lovely. And, fittingly, he is Jean-Marie Love(l)y. Monsignor Lovey was the Provost of the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard. He is not quite a big as the beloved St. Bernard dogs, but he is every bit as friendly, warm, and loving.

On the 8th of July, Monsignor Lovey was announced as the next Bishop of Sion.

I think his own words about the Hospice, written for the brochure for the Hospice’s massive renovation campaign (and translated into English by me), say more about him than I would be able to:

 

Welcome to the place between Heaven and Earth

 

The birth of the Hospice in the 11th century was thanks to the work of Bernard of Menthon, the Archdeacon of Aosta. The Augustine Canons were charged with the task of protecting travelers, and the Hospice became a haven.

 

Bernard knew the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard at this high summit could reach people in the depths of their hearts. Since it began, our guests not only receive food, drink, a place to sleep, a roof over their heads; but also, prayer. Bernard’s work is still relevant today; time has not changed our purpose. We take those in need into our home on the mountaintop and shower them with the blessings of God to prepare them for their continuing journey.

 

For centuries, the Canons have worked to accommodate the daily needs of the Hospice. They have restored, rebuilt, expanded, and maintained. The Hospice is open year-round now, providing this house between Heaven and Earth as a steadfast reflection of its bold founder. The Congregation of Grand St. Bernard exercises its mission through extraordinary grace. This is God’s house. This is your house.

 

And you are always welcome.

 

Monseigneur Jean-Marie Lovey,

 

Canon and Provost of the Congregation of Grand St. Bernard

 

May God continue to bless Jean-Marie in his service as the Bishop of Sion.

And may God bless our beloved Hospice of Grand St. Bernard, José, Raphi, Jean-Michel, Anne-Marie, Frédéric, Anne-Laure, and all who walk through the door in service.

 

Jean-Marie Lovey

Lost in translation? I don’t think so.

Posted on by lauraanneayres

I remember the day very clearly (it’s in my book). About four years ago, I was standing in front of someone and trying desperately to communicate in German – my 6th language.

“Ich weiss mein Deutsch ist nicht so gut,” I said.

“Ja und nicht gut genug.”

I know my German is not so good….to which he responded, “yes and not good enough.”

I refrained from saying, “Oh really? How’s your English? Tell me your thoughts on the Oxford comma? Passé?”

Today, I was dealing with a Swisscom employee. I am already a day behind because of Swisscom and also 400CHF poorer. This to say nothing of the pounding headache I have had since purchasing their product that would make my life “einfacher.” #itdidnt

Go on a little “with me” trip, as I call it. Especially those of you who get frustrated by non-native English speakers.

Picture yourself as a technical idiot trying to explain, in your sixth language, something said to you the night before on the Swisscom hotline by an actual technical expert. Imagine while this is happening, you are watching the minutes slowly tick toward the departure of your train.

Then, imagine the manager telling you in Swiss dialect “kein Englisch nur Tüütsch” (no English, only German), even though English is one of the working languages for Swisscom. Next, imagine missing both trains and still there is no solution from the people who sold you the mountain & the gold for 400CHF. You there? Great.

Now, add on to it that you, like everyone else in the world, have your own issues to deal with.

Really. Imagine all that.

It’s more than a headache. It’s the problem, in a global sense, with customer service and general apathy toward others – in particular, those who are foreign to us in some way.

Again, I’m not Mother Teresa (read the post entitled “I’m not Mother Teresa,” you’ll see), but when I see someone is struggling, for any reason, I go where they are. I can attempt other languages (including Latin and sign language) if I have to. Why? Because it’s not about me. It’s about the other person needing the help I can give.

I really don’t care if we are talking about a 5G connection cockpit username upgrade or directions to the bathroom or even spiritual discernment. Egal (I know that one…it means, “it’s all the same” like “equal” but super-sized). I am going to try my damnedest to be there and to help.

If I were in Texas and someone walked up to me (as a customer or a mere human) in need of my help and said, “passt Deutsch?” I would never say, “huh uh.” See, that’s the Texas (dialect) version of English (official language). Why would I do that? I have no need to make another person feel small, stupid, or subordinate. I would say “natürlich passt das, wie kann ich helfen?”

One of my favorite quotes, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” We should all make sure we commit that one to memory.

In every language.

“You have such great control, Laura.” Irony, thy name is Friday Pilates.

Posted on by lauraanneayres

I should preface this post by pointing out, today I have Oprah-cried in a train, in a tram, on the street, on a Pilates+ machine, and leaning against what turned out to be a dumpster.

Today, in my Pilates session, it was hard. Days are challenging and they feel heavy. There is physical pain as my back muscles are attempting to strengthen and there is emotional/mental/spiritual pain for reasons I need not unpack in a public forum. Getting back to Pilates, crying isn’t great when you need to focus on the Spider pose. When the 80th tear/snot combo fell, my fantastic cheerleader said, in an attempt to encourage me, I’m sure…

“You have such great control, Laura.”

Isn’t it ironic because the illusion of control is what got me into all these messes in the first place.

I think I’d prefer to be in control a little less. Someone told me to visualize what I wanted the other day. After, I asked him, “what do most people visualize?” “Lots of things – a person they love, an object, a vacation spot, a family reunion. Why, what did you visualize?” “Uh, a palm tree.”

Truth was, I visualized someone coming to me with a pillow, asking for all my problems, and telling me he’d take all my problems with him. I said something similar to J today on the phone. Wouldn’t it be nice to completely let go of the illusion of control? To have someone come to you and say, “I’m going to take all this away from you, I think you’ve had enough for now.”

I always like to end something a bit sad with something a bit silly. See picture below for a laugh.

As always, please donate to the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard and now you can “like” it on Facebook.

Bearly

 

 

 

 

Remembering a great lady – Bibiana Marie Longauer

Posted on by lauraanneayres

I don’t believe anyone should be forgotten.

In this age of google searching, blog posting, tattoo-brandishing, and even hash tag creating…it pains my heart to think someone I admire would be forgotten because she is not alive to warrant a hash tag.

In Luzern lived a lady, Bibiana Longauer.

She was an amazing lady – one of those people changing the corner she lived in.

Or so I hear.

I never met her. She was quite ill by the time her name was first said in my presence. Since that time, years ago, there is a small part of me that feels I know the woman whose pig collection now lives in my flat. I aspire to be like her and to make a real and lasting difference in the lives of others.

Let me break down this woman’s timeline (as well as I can). She was born in 1946 somewhere near or in Bratislava on June 7th. I like to know on which day of the week someone was born and little BML was born on a Friday. She died on July 21, 2010. That was a Wednesday.

She carried with her a doctorate in pharmacology. In 1970 or so, she and her then husband carried their little one to Luzern. She dedicated her life to empowering women, helping the helpless, and making her community better and stronger. Literally. She used her life to make other people healthier and stronger: (what was) revolutionary methadone treatment, political involvement on behalf of struggling mothers and young women, encouragement of homeopathy in a meat & potato culture, and preaching fitness. The woman introduced Stevia to try to cut back on Aspartame use, she opened the door before opening hours and kept it open after closing time, “not an option” was better said “let’s try something else.”

The woman was a light bringer.

As I noted, she loved pigs, modern art alongside furniture draped in classic, rich fabrics. People say she was generous, but kept both eyes and an extra third one on finances. Her friendship rainbow embraced a multitude of socio-economic and educational backgrounds. Was her service a job or a ministry? No one feels quite certain, but most think it was 30%-70% in favor of her faith. They say she loved music, sunshine, fresh flowers. I could go on and on about what she did well because I collect the stories like pieces of a patchwork quilt. She wasn’t perfect, no one is. But her life makes a lovely quilt.

By a strange circumstance, during one of her last days of work at the Pharmacy, Dr. Longauer helped one of my American friends who was living in Luzern at the time. We found the receipt and he told me the story in December of 2011. I love stories about BML and I wish I knew more.

Every week, I go to her grave. I usually sing the Bruder Klaus prayer or one verse of Ave Maria, I light a candle in the memory box, and I place a fresh flower…music, light, flower. Three of her favorite things.

None should be forgotten. Just because time moves on, we should remember everyone. AND it’s important to tell the loved ones. “I remember her.” It makes a person feel better when others remember his lost loved one. He feels less alone in his loss.

Remember someone today and write to his or her family or to your friends on Facebook or create a hashtag. I don’t care. Just remember.

Especially the good ones like #BML of Bratislava and Luzern.

 

 

The Hospice of Grand St. Bernard

Posted on by lauraanneayres

Written at 2AM on June 29th at The Hospice of Grand St. Bernard

High on the mountain, just next to the official border between Switzerland and Italy, which is in a lake, sits the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard.

This weekend celebrated a great many things: the Treasury, the Collège Chapittet, the renovations underway to save the Hospice from dilapidation and decay. Read it clearly: complete closure. After 1000 years of service. Because that will happen someday soon if the Hospice is not saved. (PLEASE donate: Hospice du GSB- Union de Banque Suisse-1920 Martigy- IBAN CH50 0026 4264 6946 8001 X – BIC UBSWCHZH80A)

Moving on, I think it is safe to say, many of those who gathered this weekend did not know each other. Many people who crossed the threshold of the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard this weekend were strangers to each other. It’s just normal. What is not normal is the outcome.

They left as part of a family: the ever-growing, all-loving Hospice family.

Even for those of us, like me, who are veterans – it’s always a new family, you see? New faces, new stories, new names. Every day, the Hospice family is re-energized by “newness” and it is through this heart that the Hospice will always give warmth and light, even when it is a time of darkness or cold.

Pilgrims (like Brian) embrace physical endurance testers (like Mr. X from Vaud). Canons, deacons, and oblates break bread (or cheese) with Switzerland’s in-the- valley-working folks. Others are seeking peace and encounter someone in direct service (like Jackson). At the Hospice, we all fight for the same thing: peace. Peace not only for ourselves in this moment. Peace for all who are in need.

Because we are family. We are all the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard family and now we have new additions in Jackson and Alex, who contributed so much to make this weekend’s concerts happen. Hospice angels.

God bless José, Frédéric, Anne-Marie, Raphaël, Pascal, Jean-Michel, L, Anne-Laure, Christophe and the Campaign committee, Raphaëlle, Annick and Stefan, and many others. We all use our gifts to support the Hospice. That’s what we do.

I wish everyone could be lucky enough to join this family. It is a family that will never let you fall.

http://www.gsbernard.net

Opening notes of "Snow"

On a personal note:

It’s hard to point to a favorite moment, but I think the moment José laid eyes on me when I arrived was one of the best moments in my life. No one has ever been so happy to see me and let me know it. HUGE smile, eyes dancing, big bear hug. José – ich bin deine Schutzengeli und immer so.

Jackson Henry at the Hospice is too much goodness to handle. Seeing his feet walk out of the Customs door after over a decade of geographical distance is something I cannot explain. Jackson is one of my top five favorite people on the planet – he is my soul’s twin brother.

 

Searching for Peace? It’s on sale here – free of charge.

Posted on by lauraanneayres

“I just want peace. I will cut anyone out of my life, read any book suggested, go to any altitude. I need it,” I realized how semi-pathetic and semi-psychotic I sounded as soon as I said it. I also realized I was farther away from peace than I’d ever been. How did I get here? 

This is part of a pretty great scene in the second book about finding peace.

Daniel is one of those perpetual peace seekers. It’s ironic because, as Pos says about Daniel in the book,  “Idiot will break both his bloody legs to locate what he believes is the nearest well of free-flowing nirvana.”

Peace. We all want it. How do we get it?

I think peace is about living in the chaos. Look at the verb! It’s not “surviving” or “ignoring” or “getting through.” No! Not good enough.

Peace is about living in the chaos. Being present, being humble, being aware, being authentic. In the chaos.

If you are a person living life fully, you will be in the middle of chaos at least once a day – a busy train, a meeting with 20 people talking over each other, a girlfriend screaming at you because you didn’t put the seat down. As if a daily round of chaos wasn’t bad enough, it could be worse than that. You could be in constant chaos because your company is failing, a loved one is gravely ill, a relationship is teetering on the brink of collapse, you are being kicked out of your home, etc.

So, you stand in the middle of this chaos and it’s usually when we hear you scream, “I just want peace!”

“You find your peace in the chaos,” Pos said. “You stand inside it and you make the choice to be who you are, express who you are, and live in that chaos. That’s peace.”

Is it possible that it’s simpler than we make it? Everyone I know tells me, “LA, I just want peace in my life.” Asking me how to find peace is a bit like asking Paris Hilton to explain the Theory of Relativity; but, I’d like to give it a whirl (pun intended).

I really don’t think you need to do ancient Chinese deep breathing, hire a life coach, hike to a remote village void of humans, or take a pill the size of Texas.

Try this instead – be yourself. If everything around you is collapsing, remember who you are. Express yourself however you need to do that – speak up, don’t speak, breathe, sing, dance, laugh, cry. Don’t just survive the chaos, stand inside it, knowing and showing who you are. Could it be that embracing the chaos and living in it will bring you more peace than constantly fighting against chaos in search of peace? Chaos is inevitable. Could we make peace the same?

Here’s the most important thing. Did you make a mistake that contributed to the chaos? Easy fix. Say it clearly, quickly, humbly, and non-emotionally, “I am sorry” and you just might find yourself…at peace.

Like father, like daughter

Posted on by lauraanneayres

jack_attorneyheader2

Horrible allergies. Broad shoulders. Eyes that are a sort of light green/khaki color. Love and devotion to Mildred and Rowe Jackson, Ayres, Sr. Enjoyment of playing ball rather than watching. Tuna fish with vinegar, not relish (gross). Grapenuts and cold milk. Deep appreciation of emergency rescue men and women. Obedience to my church. Life of service to others (got a double parental dose of that one).

These are things I inherited from my dad. Sure, there are more. These are a few things. It’s the broad shoulders I’d like to comment on.

Dear Rowe Jackson Ayres, Junior,

You gave me broad shoulders, swimmer’s shoulders. They are not delicate and feminine; however, they are good, strong shoulders.

They hold a lot of people up and provide a place for many people to lean, to cry, and to hide.

Even as a small child, I “got” it. You were my first hero because you helped everyone in need. I would sit in my bed waiting for you to get in after your nights serving as a Paramedic. I was both scared and proud of you when you would stop to take a call on the police radio. I will never forget meeting Officer Cox and then hearing he’d been shot in the line of duty. I also remember you told me you were going to “take care of his family.” I think I was 11? Around that same time, I remember you spoke out in favor of women’s rights and gay rights in our church and encouraged people who didn’t believe in equal rights for all God’s children to go find a “church” (my quotes) that believed similarly. I also remember those shoulders picking me up when I was I had appendicitis and rushing me from camp to the hospital. I remember a lot of stories about your broad shoulders.

Those broad shoulders get tired, don’t they? I learned it the hard way because I got them from you.

A few years ago, you told me, “Most of my clients never called me again after I won their cases, set up their trust funds/financial plans, etc. I don’t know what happened to the children or to them. Not even a Christmas letter or something because no one thinks about that.” Of course “that” is your heart being invested in your clients and even the people you help on the street. I felt very deep sympathy at the time, but I now feel empathy. I have spent years in service, just like you (and Momma), only to find myself wondering, “What happened to her? What ever happened to those kids? What about him, did he make it through?”…I wonder, without answers.

So, tonight I’ll give a special pre-Father’s day “thanks” for the broad shoulders inheritance. Like yours, they are tired and perhaps overused. But they are the greatest part of what I inherited from you, Dad.

Well, that and the eyes. I’m the only person in this world that has your eyes…and your love of tuna fish.

Bug of Yours

For Father’s day, June 14, 2014, Uitikon Waldegg, Switzerland

“I Don’t Want To”

Posted on by lauraanneayres

At least 20 times a day, I am faced with the internal answer, “I don’t want to.” I usually ignore it. Why?

I’m an adult.

“I don’t want to” is a selfish answer. It is rarely, I’ve found, the right answer. Here’s my example.

Yesterday, I had the entire day planned from sun up to sun down. The crucial hour was the one between physical therapy and home. I needed to catch my train to get home to bake the birthday cake. I am in Switzerland. My train comes on time, two times an hour. Punkt.

After PT, I got on the tram. I put on my headphones and started my NYC streets focus. I would have 7 minutes to get my little orange train. This young guy kept making eye contact with me and it looked like he was trying to talk. “I don’t want to” was in my head and I kept listening to Van Morrison’s Plan B album.

But, the guy came over to me. I removed the earbud and trying to find out what he was saying even though I didn’t want to.

He was sick. Really sick. In fact, he almost passed out on me.

He was only trying to tell me that he needed some water.

I helped him off the tram and into a seat, fetched some water and crackers, and sat with him. He’d just had a long day, not enough water, and got dehydrated. It was simple.

I thought about it a lot this morning. My initial “I don’t want to” almost hindered me from doing exactly what I want to do with my life…help people in need of help. This is the rather quiet way I “Catholic Buddhist” in the world. I save the bible beating and “mean Messiah”-ing to others. I sort of do my own thing.

This morning, I also remembered Moni. She was just about to finish a triathlon last year when a man fell in front of her. Instead of listening to an “I don’t want to” because of exhaustion, self-determination, desire for a good time, etc., she stopped. When she realized he was very ill, she stayed with him. He died. Imagine if she had listened to all the reasons she “didn’t want to?” God bless my Moni. She’s one of my heroes.

I didn’t get the cake done because I didn’t make my train.

I made brownies instead. Is Martha Stewart going to give them a prize?…uh, no. But, we all ate them (not me, don’t like sweets) and had a great laugh. At a table full of good friends, everyone ate one of these “charming” brownies…even the people that probably “didn’t want to.” 😉

The "I Didn't Want To" brownies

 

 

 

Mahler’s 8th, Brahms’ Requiem, Franz Biebl’s Ave Maria, and my heart’s song—O Magnum Mysterium

Posted on by lauraanneayres

Taking a break from the world for a moment and remembering easier days.

The Mahler 8 performance on my 21st birthday. The Brahms Requiem when Charlie was born. The first time I fell in love with MOH’s voice and the Biebl “Ave Maria.”

The HPPC tour (with Tracy’s folks) when we sang “O Magnum” at Canterbury Cathedral and my heart was too full to feel anything other than pure joy.

Listen. Be transformed.

Mahler 8 love

Alles Vergängliche

Ist nur ein Gleichnis;

Das Unzulängliche,

Hier wird’s Ereignis;

Das Unbeschreibliche.

Hier ist’s getan;

Das Ewig Weibliche

Zieht uns hinan

All that is transitory

Is but an image;

The inadequacy of earth

Finds here its fulfillment;

The inexpressible

Is given words here;

The eternal feminine

leads us upwards.

Brahms Requiem love

Wie lieblich sind deine Wohnungen, Herr Zebaoth!

Meine Seele verlanget und sehnet sich nach den Vorhöfen des Herrn;

mein Leib und Seele freuen sich in dem lebendigen Gott.

Wohl denen, die in deinem Hause wohnen, die loben dich immerdar.

How lovely are Thy dwelling places, O Lord of Hosts!

My soul longs and years for Your inner courts,

my body and soul rejoice in the living God.

Blessed are they that dwell in Thy house, may they praise You forever.

My music family’s songs

Franz Biebl’s Ave Maria

Morten Lauridsen’s O Magnum Mysterium

 

Freddie Mercury, Switzerland is wicked expensive, and losing Pop

Posted on by lauraanneayres

Everything crashed on my head last week. May 16th – big IN party that night, didn’t feel well, Lion was here (which was the only good part)…but it was the first day of hell week, which begins on May 16th and lasts until my birthday on May 21st.

In 2004, I threw a surprise party for my mom on May 15th. The most nervous guest was Pop because he had a special note for Mom, he didn’t really like big parties, etc. The more nervous he became, the more nervous I became. I didn’t want a repeat of Pop’s collapse. I told him it would be okay. I put Pop right across from me this time and watched him like a hawk. We made toasts to Mom, food came. Everything was going smoothly.

Until it didn’t. Looked at Pop. Face was grey, mouth hanging open. Ambulance called. Dad is performing CPR on his father. Chaos. Pop made it through the night. The next week was looking okay. Pop was in the hospital and I rarely left his side.

Then came May 20th and a “routine” procedure. One tiny slip, one tiny mistake. His heart wall was punctured. Surgery didn’t work. He was dead before we got back to the hospital at 12:30AM on May 21st – my birthday.

I will never wake up on May 21st and want to celebrate. Instead, I go and do something, on that day, that I know would make Pop proud.

Pop and I both loved music. We actually had “music appreciation” together. We would sit together for hours, living in music. One of my favorite bands is Queen. I love everything about it, especially THAT voice. Queen’s last recording studio was in Montreux and there’s an exhibit there. So, for my birthday this year, I went to find it. It was something I did, in part, because I miss my brother. I liked it when he sang “Pressure” driving down the Tollway one day. He sounded just like Freddie.  “Pressure,” by the way…came to life on May 21, 1982. I had a cast on my arm and ate a cake with Strawberry Shortcake on it while David Bowie and Freddy Mercury were snapping and clapping?! So cool! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q-vJGUYHesU

Next, I went to Chillon Castle. I thought of Pop (who loved poetry) and the poem by Lord Byron. I started crying a bit as I looked at the lake and then I heard this guy say to his buddy, “Switzerland is wicked expensive.” I laughed. He took a great picture of me and we had a nice talk about poetry. Pop would have been proud I talked about Switzerland, poetry, and made a nice moment come from a sad one.

Losing Pop because of a party I planned? Worst feeling. I will never be the same. But I had a choice on May 21, 2005. How am I going to handle it? I’m going to honor him on that day. I’m going to choose to laugh, to smile, to cry. To feel all that I need to feel and be, well, Pop’s Princess Wawwy.

ImageImageImageImage

Rowe Jackson Ayres, Sr.