08/29/2026
Today I'm in Japan, visiting my 99-year-old grandmother probably for the last time. I knew it would be a meaningful visit. I didn't quite anticipate the lessons in presence and impermanence.
Obaachan's (my grandmother) dementia is about 80/20, so we are in a loop about 80% of the time and she is lucid about 20%. During the loops, one must be present. Whatever the time frame is. Sometimes she is at war with America. Sometimes she is here and now. Sometimes, she is not sure where she is. I answer her questions about people, places, things and addresses. I reflect her emotion back to her instead of correcting.
She remembers only to forget. We loop again, usually for more than an hour.
It's not sad though. Imagine the joy on her face when you tell her you're the mother of two boys. The smile when she sees (the same 😂) picture of your children. Her excitement that it's your birthday (It's been my birthday all week 🤣!). I get to see that multiple times in 10 minutes. So I'm grateful for the work, for the opportunity to intensively practice presence.
Imagine a house full of a century's accumulation of stuff. It's a pretty effective reminder that we can't take it with us and that nobody values it the same as we do.
My mother wants us to help declutter and organize the house. But when it comes time to actually throw something away, letting go becomes extraordinarily difficult. Even reasonable reorganizing can feel threatening.
At some point, I realized that the physical clutter in the house and the disorganization happening in my obaachan’s and mother’s minds felt strangely connected. There was so much being held onto.
When I realized we weren't actually going to be able to get rid of much, I felt my own anxiety arrive physically. My chest felt like it might cave in.And instead of trying to control everyone else so that I could feel better, I walked.
It reminds me that presence isn't just about engaging patiently through Obaachan's loops.
It is allowing other people to be where they are.
I can watch someone I love respond to anxiety with control. I can watch someone else respond with frustration because he cannot understand why another person won't behave rationally. And I can feel my own instinct to fix all of it, but it is not mine to fix.
My mother is not ready. She believes that obaachan's death is loss. I understand this, but it is this that brings tears. The desperation to control the inevitable, the natural order. Failing to understand that energy doesn't disappear.
The work I do with myself allows me to see, to be aware of the emotions, to understand how important it is to keep doing the work, everyday. To continue the journey towards experiences>stuff, self-awareness and mindful presence, and practicing gratitude.
So as I sit on this couch for maybe the last time, I'm deeply grateful for all who made this moment possible. Sheila for holding down the office while I'm gone. For my amazing clients that I cannot name here, but who understand that I might be a little less reachable this week. For Alondra Flores who is keeping my boys moving while I am away. For my amazing husband John Grabbe, who is my everything. To Alok Trivedi and my Rewire fam, for raising the consciousness in my life. Embodying love and gratitude for all of you, and for this experience we call life. ♥️ What a gift.
