Laughter Salad: A Nourishing Mix of Inspiring Stories

by Kimberly Ann Borin, EdD

Overview

Stories define our experiences and connect us to our global community. In Laughter Salad, author Dr. Kimberly Ann Borin narrates the moments that have defined her life as an athlete, teacher, counselor, and traveler—a mixture of laughter and nourishment.

In this collection of inspirational true stories and playful art, Borin shares vignettes and times of synchronicity, serendipity, and miracles that bring us closer to our heart’s desires—reminders that we are exactly where we need to be. Including tales of her travels around the world, Laughter Salad tells of Borin riding her bicycle across the United States, running a fifty-mile race, healing from a concussion, and learning how to be a performance artist.

Funny, sincere, humbling, and comforting, Borin’s experiences remind us that we are precious and that we each have a gift to bring to the world. Through the stories told, Laughter Salad communicates that our journeys matter, and that along the way we offer gifts to make the world a better, brighter place.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781475937510
Publisher:	iUniverse, Incorporated
Publication date:	08/02/2012
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	204
File size:	2 MB

Read an Excerpt

Laughter Salad

A Nourishing Mix of Inspiring Stories

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By Kimberly Ann Borin

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Kimberly Ann Borin, Ed.D.
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-3753-4

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Chapter One

Gifts

The Gift

I'd like to share a story from my life that I call The Gift. It speaks about how God uses us and gives us a unique mission, no matter what we have to give – and how our mere presence can enhance and heal the world during even the tiniest moment. Sometimes, our gift is just a matter of showing up.

In 1992, along with fifteen friends, I rode my bicycle from Seattle to Atlantic City for the American Lung Association. It had been my dream for quite a while to ride my bike across the country. In 1991, I had read an article about a young man named Sam, a student at Rutgers, who had bicycled cross-country to raise money for the American Lung Association. After reading the story, I contacted Sam to ask how he had done this. I thought that if he were going again perhaps I could join him.

Sam told me that he and his friends had decided to do another trip in 1992. The idea of waiting another year to go seemed excruciating, but I knew it would be worth it.

Sure enough, a year later, Sam contacted me about the details of the trip. Our journey would be seven weeks long, with an average of eighty miles per day, with one day off, July 4. Our group was called the Trekkers and we each needed to raise money for the trip – approximately $3,000. One of my roommates decided to join me, and we started training and brainstorming how to fund the adventure.

We rode our bikes in front of the grocery story, stood at the door of a local campus bar asking for donations, went door to door, and more. I prayed and fundraised and trained and prayed some more. I prayed that if I were to go, perhaps I could offer something good in God's eyes, perhaps being a minister of sorts. On the trip, oddly enough, I ended up with two titles: "Bike Mechanic" and "The Minister."

One day in Idaho, I decided to bike alone. We had been riding as a group every day. All sixteen of us did everything together, including sleeping in the same hotel room, as we were trying to save money. That day, I felt like I needed some alone time. Occasionally, this would happen to different people in the group. This particular day, I left much later than everyone else. My friends and the van that usually followed us were far in front of me.

I was enjoying the day and the ride, when, without warning, my bike broke down. A closer inspection determined that the tiniest and most essential screw that holds the derailleur together was gone. In all of my years of bike riding, it had never occurred to me that this kind of thing could happen. Without a functioning derailleur to help me shift through the gears, I could not ride my bike.

I looked around for help, but all I could see was a small town on a distant hill: a very long hill that I had just ridden down! So, I began walking uphill with my broken bike. I was angry, scared, and confused. I was only in Idaho, and I still had thousands of miles to go – this was not good!

I made it to the town and then to a car repair shop. I explained that I was a cyclist from New Jersey, riding my bike across country, and I needed a small screw for the derailleur. Then the mechanic interrupted, "New Jersey?"

"That's right, "I said.

"Wait until I tell Fred that you are here!" he said. "You have to meet him. He will be so glad to know that you are here!"

I felt uneasy and worried, and wondered what in the world I had gotten myself into. Here I was, alone in the middle of Idaho, no cell phone, no money, a broken bicycle, and this strange mechanic was talking to me about some man named "Fred."

After looking through the collection of screws that he had on hand, he realized that none would fit in this tiny spot. The mechanic decided that the best place to find a screw this tiny was the sewing machine shop. We walked there with my bicycle and I explained my story to the shop owner while the mechanic went to tell Fred – whoever he was – that I had arrived.

When I hoisted my bike up the stairs and rolled in on the wood floor of the sewing machine shop, I couldn't help but wonder what this was all about. At the back of the shop, the owner and I started taking out screws to see what would fit. He was very kind and patient with this very unusual task, even when he would later have to file down the final screw to make it work.

Some twenty or thirty boxes of sewing machine screws later, we found one that fit. As the owner walked me back to the automotive shop, he told me that when a stranger arrives in a town with fewer than one thousand people, word of a new arrival travels fast. Sure enough, as we left the shop, three people walked by. One shouted, "Oh! You must be Kimberly! Fred will be so glad to see you!"

It crossed my mind that perhaps I had entered some science-fiction world, some sort of twilight zone experience where I would be spending the rest of my life – never to see my friends again.

Back at the mechanic's, we put the sewing machine part into the derailleur and my bicycle worked! I used the shop phone to call my friends and waited for them to pick me up.

Moments later, a van pulled up and a frail, elderly man carrying two brown bags of vegetables got out. He walked into the shop, looked at me with wide eyes and a smile and said, "You must be Kimberly!"

I answered with a very nervous smile, "You must be Fred."

As he walked toward me, I could see a strange sadness on his face. He offered me the bags of vegetables that he had just picked from his garden. Then in a shaking voice, with his eyes welling up, he said, "I am so glad to see you. I can't believe that you are actually here."

Fred asked me where I was from in New Jersey. Through more questions, we were surprised to discover that we were from the same area near Flemington. Oddly enough, it turned out that Fred was also a good friend of some of my high school teachers, including my drivers' ed teacher and my running coach.

Fred began to tell me his story. He said he had left New Jersey suddenly about twelve years ago because something very bad had happened and he could not bring himself to return.

All of those years, he had been praying for forgiveness. With tears streaming down his face, he said, "I prayed that if someone from my hometown in New Jersey came to this small town in the middle of Idaho, it would be a miracle and a sign from God that I had been forgiven."

I was stunned and so was he. We stood for what seemed like an eternity, speechless, and then gave each other a big hug. The idea of what had happened was humbling, unbelievable, and miraculous.

This story still holds tremendous power for me – it is nourishing, affirming, and reminds me that I have a gift to bring. I know that God has a greater purpose for all of us and is using us, and our stories, every day in ways we will never know.

Inspiring Resources:

American Lung Association in Washington – www.lung.org/ associations/states/washington

Chapter Two

Angels

Bryan's Story

This story is about an amazing young boy named Bryan. Bryan Opremcak changed my life as well as the lives of thousands of others. The story takes place in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU) at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital in New York City. Bryan was a young man who was battling an aggressive brain tumor with courage, strength, and a lightness of heart.

When I worked with him as a reiki healer, we both could sense, but not see childlike angels. Perhaps it was the presence of these angels that gave him the strength and courage to go forward. While I was working with him, he taught me about courage, laughter, and being present to a larger notion of healing than I had ever allowed myself to experience or understand.

I felt so very privileged to spend time with him and his family for more than a year. His parents, Nancy and Tim, as well as his brother taught me how a family journeys through something as overwhelming and devastating as a brain tumor. They also taught me how big the world can be, and how one person can make a difference to thousands of people. Here is the story of the first time I met Bryan.

In late 2004, my dear friend, Patty, called to say that her friends, the Opremcaks, were looking for someone to do reiki healing with their son, who had been diagnosed with a glioblastoma multiforme (GBM) in his cerebellum in October of that year. He had surgery for this very aggressive brain tumor at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital.

Patty contacted me to see if I would be able to do a reiki session with him in the hospital the day of his surgery. I knew I wanted to see if I could help in some way. Patty agreed to take me to the hospital and to introduce me to Bryan and his family.

I had been a healer for four years at the time. I had worked with several people who had cancer, depression, anxiety, or even exhaustion. In going to the hospital, I felt very inadequate, as I had never done reiki healing on a child. I also had never done reiki in a hospital, or with someone I hadn't met before. I also knew that I would be doing the healing session in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit, which made me feel very nervous, as I didn't know what to expect.

When we arrived at the hospital, my friend brought me up to the PICU unit to see Bryan and his family. I was so happy to meet them and felt very fortunate to have the opportunity to work with them. Bryan was in bed and his head was wrapped in bandages. He was still recovering from his surgery that morning. He was such a beautiful young child and he had the most pleasant disposition. I believe he was quite tired and in pain, but nonetheless, he was very upbeat and present. This is the way I came to know him for months afterwards. He always had a smile, a strong and calm manner, and he loved to laugh and have fun.

The nurses were very welcoming to me and did not seem at all surprised to have a reiki healer at the hospital. I was perhaps more surprised than they. The PICU unit was unique in that the nurses' station was in the center of a gigantic room with no walls. Many nurses busily manned computers, monitors, and other equipment, yet they could be at a patient's bedside in an instant because of their central location. The nurses had the most peaceful and happy personalities in the midst of a great deal of suffering.

After the introductions were made, I talked to Bryan about what a reiki healing session was and how it would work. I told him he might feel very relaxed, fall asleep, or even feel warm. I explained that the way he experienced the session was the most important part of our time together. He was open to the idea and seemed very cool with the whole thing. I may have been the more nervous of the two of us.

The PICU unit was unlike anything I had ever experienced. A huge, noisy room, it was filled to the brim with parents and children and monitors of every type. While nurses were tending to patients and walking around, there was an enormous amount of stimulation – monitors with bells, beeping sounds, digital displays, and more. I was shocked at the bright lights and all that was going on, especially since each child's case was severe and in need of serious attention.

I was surprised that each of these isolated and very intense medical situations were divided by only a small white curtain that didn't block the noise or offer privacy that families may have needed. The curtains did not extend to the floor or the ceiling. I wondered how each child and each family, so in need of healing, were able to sleep amid all of the noise. It was especially important for everyone to rest, as the families spent hours upon hours sitting, waiting, and praying by the bedsides of their children.

It became obvious to me that everyone there needed all of the tenderness, hope, and strength that the world could muster. I was in awe of the courage of the families and the children and the bright disposition of the nurses, who were tending to everyone. I was very humbled by the scene around me, especially as I walked in and started absorbing the details of the situation.

While taking it all in, I wondered how I would do the reiki session. I had become used to conducting sessions in my home, with low lighting and soft music. I often removed my shoes and was able to walk on soft carpet all the way around the table that held my client. Here, there would be no music, and no silence. I had come from work and had on a suit with high heels, and had access to only one side of Bryan's bed. I prayed that healing would come through me, despite feeling unsure of my situation or wondering if I could help at all.

Soon, the reiki session began. I started by talking to Bryan, and then saw that he drifted off to sleep. I noticed, too, that the whole floor became very quiet. It was quite strange, given the hustle and bustle of nurses moving, people talking, and other activities. The floor became silent except for the sound of the monitors beeping at different intervals.

As I prayed, I kept sensing images of children – young children – lots of them. I didn't actually see them, and didn't imagine them, I just had a "sense" that they were there. This seemed very odd to me and I wondered if, on some level, Bryan was thinking about his friends at school. Then, I realized that the small children, of whom there might be about twenty, thirty or more, were surrounding Bryan's bed. It seemed like they were holding their arms out underneath his bed. This was a strange scene for me because in my logical mind nothing made any sense, symbolically or otherwise.

To complicate things, I realized that they were not just children surrounding his bed; they were "childlike angels." Now, I felt really confused. Imagine a scene playing in your head: thirty childlike angels surrounding the bed of a young patient, each extending their arms and hands as though they were holding up the hospital bed and the child.

I felt so confused by the image because I didn't understand it, nor did I ever think of angels as children. As I continued to be present to the reiki, I prayed for a sign that what I was experiencing was true, or real, or meant something, or that I was "seeing" it right. Then, out of nowhere, the baby just behind the curtain to our right let out a huge cry. It was shocking because everything had become so silent. So, I asked, "Lord, was that a validation?" Again, one large, loud cry from the baby, and then everything was silent again. I thought to myself that I was really out of my realm.

After about 45 minutes, I brought the session to an end. I waited for Bryan to wake up, and then we talked about his experience. I asked him how he felt, and wondered if he had been thinking about his friends. He replied no, but that he was very tired.

I don't offer clients my interpretation of things unless they ask me. Sometimes, I experience what they do and sometimes I experience something different. I don't judge or interpret what they experience. I believe that the client is the most powerful healer in the room and that their experience and their interpretation is the most important part of the healing.

His parents and I and our friend, Patty, talked about the session and how quiet the bustling, large room had become. Like me, they were surprised at the peace that had come amid so much activity and noise. They also noticed the two loud cries of the baby near the curtain by Bryan's bed.

Soon, it was time to go. Mrs. Opremcak walked my friend and me down to the first floor. Once outside, she asked me very poignantly, "Kimberly, what did you experience during the session?" I felt embarrassed because what I experienced made no sense to me.

I apologized for not understanding what I had felt but said I would explain it to her. "I sensed that there were about thirty young angels standing with their arms outstretched under his bed and under Bryan.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't understand what it means, I never even think of angels as children. I am embarrassed to share this with you. I wish I knew what it meant."

She began to cry, and said, "I know what it means ... I have been praying that the children angels would hold him up."

It was the validation of her prayer and of how God's grace is so much larger than any of us could ever understand.

This was my first of many sessions with Bryan. I consider him my teacher, as he helped to broaden what I know about healing, God, angels, courage, and grace. Each time I worked with him, I was aware that he seemed much older and wiser than I was. He wasn't afraid of what he was facing, and he gave me the courage to go forward as a healer and as a person.

Bryan made my world bigger, and, I believe, everyone's world bigger. His presence, his spirit, and his wisdom were so much larger than anyone could have imagined. He inspired many people to make major changes in their lives and to live in a way that was grander than what they may have foreseen for their lives.

From then on, Bryan and I worked with those childlike angels as part of our sessions. I sometimes could see what he saw, and this knowledge of the presence of these playful beings became part of our healing sessions that only a young child, with a very large presence and a very young teacher, like me, could understand.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Laughter Salad by Kimberly Ann Borin Copyright © 2012 by Kimberly Ann Borin, Ed.D.. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Introduction....................xiii
Part One....................1
Chapter One – Gifts....................3
The Gift: Synchronicity and Cycling Across the United States....................5
Chapter Two – Angels....................11
Bryan's Story....................13
The Cat Architect....................21
Chapter Three – Blossoming....................27
Belong: Signs on the Way to the Venice Biennale....................29
In Bocca Al Lupo!: Preparing for the Venice Biennale....................33
Beauty, Strength, Voice, and Vision: Performing in the Venice Biennale....................37
Chapter Four – Art....................43
Becoming an Artist....................45
One Good Frame Deserves Another: Racing in Treviso, Italy....................49
Mariano Fortuny and the Search for Beautiful....................55
Chapter Five – The Journey....................59
The Tender Voice Within....................61
Laughter Salad and Other Wordplay....................67
Making it a Prayer: Training for a Fifty-Mile Ultramarathon....................71
Chapter Six – Signs of Hope and Love....................77
Bride Under Construction....................79
Other Signs on the Road....................83
Love Wins....................87
Who Wins the Polka Dot Jersey?: Cycling the Mountains of the Tour de France....................91
Chapter Seven – Comfort....................97
The Brown Woolly....................99
Wearing Black....................107
Ben Yobst Cookies: Cycling at the Velodrome....................111
Chapter Eight – Letters....................115
A Letter for Allie....................117
A Letter for Lily....................121
Chapter Nine – Your Calling....................127
The Boy at the Door....................129
One Door Opens and Zibonele....................133
Part Two....................139
Chapter Ten – New Beginnings....................141
Noggin....................143
Child of New Beginnings: A Children's Story....................153
Living Laughter Salad....................159
About the Author....................161
Appendix....................163
Bryan's Dream Foundation....................165
About Reiki Healing....................169
List of Story Projects....................173
List of Illustrations....................183
Endnotes....................185