And So It Goes

"There is no real ending.  It's just a place where you stop the story."

                                                                     ~ Frank Herbert

This is where I stop the story of Considering the Alternatives.  For several reasons, it seems the right time to start a completely new chapter, perhaps a sequel?  

The transition I set out to blog about so many months ago is complete.

Our move to St. George is complete.  It's not just that we have regular routines, new friends, services we trust, and know our way around the city.  It's the feeling, the declaration we make when we return from a trip that "it's good to be home."  Not St. George, but home.  

Our adjustment to retirement is complete.  Well, mine is - John continues to do business via his website.  I have new hobbies, new interests, relationships that have nothing to do with past events or career.  A new structure to my days and activities has evolved.  And a new sense of direction and commitment.

So as promised in my last posting, I have launched a new blog in which to document that commitment.  Please check out                          

                                               
                                                http://justanothercandle.blogspot.com

and if you find it interesting, I hope you will follow it and tell others to check it, too.

In Praise of Procrastination!?!

"Procrastination enables us to understand the true measure of our reluctance." 

~ David Whyte 

I have struggled with procrastination for as long as I can remember.  I've examined the issue inside out and upside down.  With little more than temporary clarity and not much change in behavior.  I'd almost surrendered to the idea that "it's in my DNA" when, I came across this quote by poet and author, David Whyte, in Consolations:The Solace, Nourishment, and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words:

                  "Procrastination when studied closely can be a beautiful thing, a parallel with patience, a companionable friend, a revealer of the true pattern, already caught within us; acknowledging for instance, as a writer, that before a book (or a poem, or a letter - or a blog?) can be written, most of the ways it cannot be written must be tried first in our minds; on the blank screen, on the empty page or staring at the bedroom ceiling at four in the morning."

Procrastination, a beautiful thing?  A companionable friend?  Not a source of angst and self-recrimination?   Even the possibility was a relief.  I decided to test his assertion by specifically examining the source(s) of my reluctance to compose this posting - (which has in fact been tried out in my mind ad nauseum for months now).  What's behind, lurking underneath, not what's wrong.  And a  bigger question - why is it such an effort to create these posts, when I easily write three to four pages in my private journal every morning?

I decided to approach my examination gently and patiently.  Just to pay attention. And possible answers emerged, slowly, unexpectedly, on a walk, while journaling, while making the bed, while reading someone else's blog, at four in the morning.  If you've ever struggled to write, you may recognize some of the litany that surfaced - maybe there's a better way to say this; maybe there's a better topic; I don't write as well as (supply anyone else's name!); this isn't clear enough, clever enough, good enough, important enough; a blog isn't private; what if I throw a party and no one comes,  etc., etc., etc.

Finally, the "AHAs".   I've been approaching blogging like a school assignment, needing to write an essay about a topic that kept changing!  Wondering if I'll get a good grade.  I do want to create a blog, but with the ease with which I journal and about a topic or theme I consider important, whether or not anyone else agrees.  

Therefore, I have decided to terminate this blog and start afresh.  With a clean slate.  With a focus on the issue that is important to me and growing more important with each passing day.  Just Another Candle will be about aging, not aging gracefully, or artfully, or with dignity or any of the other popular descriptors.  Just aging from the vantage point of one everyday, aging, curious woman.  No expert, not Jane Fonda or Andrew Weill. Observations, and questions, some insights, no advice. I'm almost ready to launch it and will post an addendum here to let you know where and when you can access it.

A final thought about procrastination - it really did provide the space and opportunity to understand the true measure of my resistance and by taking advantage of that opportunity, I could compose this post with relative ease.  I look forward to Just Another Candle.  I have lists of ideas for topics.  So I agree with Whyte, procrastination can be a revealer of the true pattern, but we have to be willing to see it, to own it and do something about it.

Now, why do I continue to procrastinate about exercise?

Nice and Easy Does It Every Time

"When you have a great and difficult task, something perhaps almost impossible, if you only work a little at a time, every day a little, suddenly the work will finish itself.

~  Isak Dinesen

After two and a half months of letting go of cosmetics, dishes, books, knickknacks, purses,etc.,etc, I'm finally seeing empty drawers, space on the shelves and in the closets. t feels sooooooo good!  

And though I am still not committed to becoming a minimalist in the true sense of the word, I can understand why many people have. The sense of freedom and accomplishment is very satisfying.  And I feel so mature!  So responsible!

In the process, these are three of the most important things I've learned: 

• Anyone can eat an elephant, a bite at a time.  I know many of the experts recommend a sweeping purge. However, I think the overwhelm of that option may be why  many people who know they should downsize and declutter, yet keep putting it off.  
• Less choice makes decision-making easier, much easier.  Duh!!
• Shutting out the siren call of the marketers - whether on TV, in the print media, or on technological gadgets - significantly reduces the temptation to fill the empty spaces again.  It's also eye-opening to get in touch with how strong and pervasive the buy, buy, buy message is.

Three strategies that have proven particularly effective:

• Having a box accessible for depositing items for donation - it keeps the commitment visible. 
• Setting a daily goal of 3 items to donate; 3 to toss and 3 to either store or use in a new way....and striving to do so early in the day. After 10 weeks, I'm down to 1,1, and 1!!!  After 10 weeks, it's now a habit. (And I don't form habits easily.)
• Staying focused, one task at a time - a shelf, a drawer, one box - no multi-tasking for me.  

Three resources that I have found most useful:

• Organizing for the Creative Person, by Dorothy Lehmkuhl and Dolores Cotter,           the book that offers an abundance of ideas for a non-linear individual like me!  (or you?) The book that asserted I could become organized and it could even be fun.  If you have tried the more typical suggestions to become organized yet haven't been able to sustain the results, this may be the first book to consult.  
• Secrets of Simplicity, by Mary Carlomagno, the book that inspired me to think SIMPLE, not merely organized. I particularly like the questions she poses to help her readers "learn to live better with less."  Plus, it's an attractive book that is simply organized and easy to access and use.
• The Not So Big Life, by Sarah Susanka, a thoughtful blend of exercises and inspiring stories that deliver a philosophical basis for simplifying and practical activities to support doing so.

For those of you who prefer your Kindle or Nook, there's a plethora of short and sweet e-books dealing with organization, decluttering, simplification and minimalism.  Among the most helpful that I have found is....

• the work of Meg Wolfe, who goes by the tagline The Minimalist Woman, and is the author of an e-book by the same title and an engaging blog, www.theminimalistwoman.com  

Information's clearly not the issue.  As with dieting, there's plenty of information out there. It's not so much about finding the right program, as much as finding the right motivation and the strength of commitment.  For me, the motivation to simplify my environment grew out of my wish to age artfully.  Might take me another 10 weeks to complete this job, but I
see the forest for the trees!

In Memorium

"Memory is the thing you forget with." 

~ Alexander Chase    

Spend some time with any senior citizen and inevitably a comment (or dissertation) is made regarding memory.  Or more accurately, memory loss.  I hear myself saying, often out loud, "now, why did I come in this room?"....or "where did I put....my keys, a book, my purse, that letter," etc., etc.   

Spend time with a group of senior citizens and a deeper conversation occurs.  "Are you experiencing the same challenges?" "Do you worry that this may signify something worse?"  "I hate this!"  Nervous laughter, reassurances usually follow.  

I remember having a brain scan a couple years ago and reading the report..."a normal, aging brain."  I didn't know whether to be relieved or offended.  I did some research, however, just to be reassured that I was indeed normal.  So, for the most part, I don't worry that my lapses in memory mean anything more catastrophic.

What is more intriguing to me these days is why I remember what I do remember and what triggers the memories.  Just two days ago, while watching Turner Classic Movie's day of musicals (Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly classics), there was a memorium for industry personalities that passed away this year.  You know, the kind of tribute done yearly at the Oscars.  Well, that one I've come to expect.  This one came as a surprise.  The list itself was also a surprise - Esther Williams, Dennis Farina, Jean Stapleton, Eileen Brennan, Michael Ansara, Karen Black, Eleanor Parker, Tom Clancy, Roger Ebert, Steve Forrest, Jack Klugman,  Peter O'Toole - at least 20 names I recognized and another dozen faces I have come to know over the years in various character roles.  The number stunned me.

And with it, a flood of memories - the TV series, the iconic roles (Edith Bunker, Hot Lips Hoolihan, Lawrence of Arabia, Cochise), the people I saw the movies or series with (some no longer a part of my life), the music, and the young woman, even the little girl I was when I first encountered them.  

In the couple days that have followed, I have seen this clip again.  Now, expecting it, some of the surprise, the sadness, and the nostalgia has passed.  And what has surfaced next is the awareness that many of these names no longer mean much to people even a few years younger than I - or other fans of TCM,.  Joan Fontaine, Audrey Totter, John Kerr, Dale Robertson.  Oh yes, I know that every generation has to face this phenomenon, but it is still a bit disconcerting whenever it happens.  Yes, it certainly has struck me before - who were the Beatles? What was polio? Did you really walk to school in the snow?  You didn't have.....!!!!??

So what makes this experience more poignant?  The sheer number of personalities?  The realization that many of these names may mean little or nothing to many Americans?  Or the recognition that they do mean a lot to me and that is another reminder of the passage of time, of my aging? Of my own mortality?

Maybe I'll skip the memorium segment of the Oscars this year.

  

Shifting Gears

Well, I'm back.  Have been traveling.  Nothing as romantic as a tour across Europe on the Orient Express. Or as altruistic as volunteering at a hospital  in a Third World nation.  I haven't even left St. George.

My journey has been an internal one, in retrospect similar to others I've taken every six or seven years of  my adult life, a journey marked by introspection, contemplation and reflection.  Marked by  reading marathons, and notebooks filled with lists and quotes and questions I didn't know I had.  Marked by a flurry of decluttering and reorganizing shelves and drawers  Marked by a sense that whatever the final destination, it would be different than I anticipated when setting out.

Years ago, Deborah Tannen labelled these journeys "passages" and her book of that title was particularly helpful during the aftermath of my divorce - and in the subsequent passages initiated by job changes, remarriage, moves, new careers, disease and the death of loved ones.  The external events that have been catalysts for the major shifts in my life.  This time, however, this passage crept up on me.  No significant external event.  

I didn't even recognize I was on the road again until I realized I wasn't journaling with my typical long hand prose, something I'd done faithfully for over 35 years.  I hadn't been blogging because I wasn't sure what I wanted to blog about.  Although healthy and busy with several interesting activities, generally satisfied, I also was vaguely discontented, aware that something was missing. This time, I decided to let things unfold, to idle in neutral so to speak, to just hang out with whatever was going on and trust that I would know when it was time to shift gears and get going again.  Not my usual style!

Then last week, during one of my decluttering binges, in the midst of culling through a box of old journals, I came upon a special volume I put together years ago on the heels of my 50th birthday, a volume of pictures and photos, of dreams and desires for what I hoped would be the future that is today.  And discovered an interesting essay, a description of how I wanted to age.  Clear, detailed, optimistic, validating - and revealing.

What has been missing has been a venue for continuing to make a difference, a contribution.  One that resonates with my values, my experience, my skills.  One that calls for stretching, for learning, for creating. That addresses something I am passionate about.  

The contribution I want to make is to generate a meaningful conversation about aging - a conversation that is realistic without becoming whiny and fearful, optimistic without being pollyanish.  I want to examine with others the challenges inherent in getting older in a society that is obsessed with youth, to raise questions and concerns that we too often avoid, and to consider alternatives with others who also want a meaningful conversation. The venue, this blog. I hope you will join me in the coming weeks.

In the Pursuit of Happiness

I realized the other day that I am happier than I have ever been - and the realization surprised me.  Partially, because I've never really aspired to be happy.  Content, yes; satisfied, yes.  But the word happy has never been familiar.  So, it surprised me to be using it to describe how I feel. 

Being inclined to analyze my feelings, to reflect on my thinking, I have been journaling on this rather interesting state of affairs - did happiness creep up on me when I wasn't looking?  Have I been working toward it subconsciously?  How do I nurture this? 

Then the Feb/Mar issue of the AARP Magazine arrived with the article, "Give Yourself a Happiness Makeover."  Aha!!!  The article answered my questions - so well that I want to pass on the ten things author Dan Buettner recommends for improving one's happiness.  I think they are worth considering.

1. Nestle in the Right Neighborhood - "where you choose to live is one of the most important determinants of your happiness."  Our decision to move to a smaller, more civilized, slower paced community is definitely one the biggest contributors to my personal happiness.  I don't think the size of the city is important - I do strongly believe that the safety, familiarity, and sense of neighborhood is.
2. Stop Shopping; Start Saving - "research shows that financial security brings much more happiness over time than buying things does."   I know we are spending less, but of more significance is that what we are spending on is experiences rather than things - a cruise, musical performances - and oh yes, books.  The library is on my to do list.
3. Make the Most of Your Morning - for a good breakfast and 30 minutes of exercise.  We are doing well with breakfast - but exercise?  Still a challenge for both of us.  I must admit, however, that I feel much better when I have walked in the morning and this reminder is inspiring me to get moving again.
4. Trim Your TV Time - "The happiest people watch less than one hour of television a day, according to a study of 40,000 people who took National Geographic's True Happiness Test."  One hour!!?!  I've acknowledged for some time now that I am more productive with less tv time, but happy?  I'm taping all shows to eliminate commercial time, eliminating reruns unless exceptional.  But one hour?  That's not trimming, it's probably major surgery for many people - me, included.  I'm going to play around with this awhile.
5. Get a Daily Dose of Friends -  the research of Jim Harter, PhD "shows that America's happiest people purposefully plan for social times and get at least six hours a day of interaction with friends and family."  Maybe this explains the power of social networking.  Perhaps because of my generation, I require less hours but more interaction.  E-mails aren't enough. One good telephone conversation can make my day, especially if it's with a sibling or an old friend.  A 'date' for lunch and a movie with John fulfills my needs for the day.  And since we've retired, we try to do this every week.
6. Find Your Soul Mate - well, must admit I don't buy into the concept of soul mates, but I have seen the statement that "people in long term committed relationships suffer less stress and live longer with fewer diseases" enough times to accept it.  I would add, however, that the relationships should be mutually satisfying!  Enduring isn't enough for happiness.
7. Meet, Pray, Love - "research shows that people who belong to a faith-based community - regardless of religion - and attend services more than once a week live as much as seven years longer than people who don't."  I'd like to know more about this as I am acquainted with many happy people who don't belong to faith-based communities.  I have become involved in a Unitarian Fellowship - for the fellowship, the support of like-minded people, not the faith.  Definitely would like to know more about this research.
8. Create a Sunny Sanctuary - ah yes, I have done this with greater success than in any other home I've lived in and I know it has made a huge difference in my morale.  We've just completed the creation of an art niche where I indulge in a new passion, graphite drawing.  It is filled with supplies, inspiration, mementoes...love it.  Makes me smile just thinking about it - created it, bright, a sanctuary.
9. Gain Peace with a Pooch -  a study published in 2011 shows "that pets foster self-esteem, calmness, soothing and a feeling of acceptance."  We don't have pets now because we prefer the freedom and mobility we have without them, but I have noticed how much satisfaction John gets from feeding a family of feral cats that have adopted us, as well as the colony of birds we keep alive over the winter.  And he always has to reason with me whenever I see a Schnauzer.
10. Ignite Your Passion for Compassion - one body of research shows that "altruism stimulates the same pleasure centers in the brain as sugar and cocaine do."  And giving money away rather than spending it on self seems to bring greater happiness.  I would add that for me, at least, I am gaining more satisfaction by becoming more involved in a cause or concern than by only giving financial support.  That's definitely easier to do now that I'm retired, but I have known many people to have been involved while holding down jobs and caring for families.  They probably don't watch more than one hour of tv a day.

 

 



When Do We Take a Stand...and Mean It?!!

Maybe it's because I know Newtown, having spent several lovely days among this lovely community.  Maybe it's because the first school I administered was a primary school, K - 3.  Maybe it's because I am already grieving a personal loss, but I have been glued to CNN to watch the coverage of this latest tragedy.  Feeling oddly reminiscent, too reminiscent, of the assassinations of the 60's, 9-ll,  Oklahoma City, Columbine.  Tragedies heaped upon the innocent.  Alternately raging, sobbing, applauding the courage of reporters who have challenged some of the inanity they were hearing, grateful for the respect they are showing the community, in awe of the dignity and compassion expressed by family members of victims, and despairing that this has happened yet again.

Above all, wondering whether this time we will have the courage and the resolve to address the underlying, systemic problems that contribute to this madness.  Granted, no one is asking me for my ideas.  Granted, I have my own biases.  But I have some questions I wish would be raised by someone of influence and authority.  I have some questions that could lead to different kinds of discussion than whether or not we should be arming our teachers!

• What kind of society do we want to live in?  A violent, armed, fearful society?
• What can we learn from other countries who are not as violent as we are?  Like Japan.
• What have we already learned from previous tragedies that could help us identify potential dangers?
• How much more information do we need anyway?
• How do we support our "leaders" (perhaps demand?!) to get beyond their own interests to work together, to get beyond their bi-partisanship?  How do we become more responsible followers who are willing to sacrifice some of our own interests?
• What can Newtown teach us all about becoming caring, supportive, responsible communities?  
• When do the needs of the whole trump the needs of the individual?
• What can we do as individuals to impact the quality of our society as a whole?  Simply labeling us as a violent society or describing what we are seeing as "reality" that must be accepted serves only to make us more fearful, more frustrated, more isolated.
• How can we encourage, develop the critical thinking skills and the communications skills we so desperately need in order to address these larger issues together rather than against one another? 
• How can we use social networking venues to promote responsible, thoughtful action...not knee-jerk, reactionary, simplistic actions that produce more (sometimes greater) problems!?!?
• How can we defend controlling cars more than we do guns?!
• Where are the systems thinkers that could help move a national discourse to consider the scope of the disease - right now it seems that we are arguing over the size of the bandage to put over the tumor!
• When do we take a stand...and mean it?  

Heeding My Own Advice

My mother called it "contemplating one's navel" - and she had little patience for it - thinking too much, especially about things that can't be controlled or changed.  Needless to say, she didn't keep a journal, couldn't understand why anyone would go to a therapist.

She would use that phrase whenever she thought I was worrying about something or spending an inordinate amount of time and effort to dissect a situation or struggling to make sense out of nonsense.  I would bristle and defend myself.  I used to wonder how she knew that I was, in fact, overthinking, musing, worrying, deep within a maze of my own construction, bumping up against imaginary walls.

I've come to realize that it must be pretty obvious to anyone who is around me for any length of time.  I withdraw, disengage - journal much more than usual, make and remake list upon list, draw mindmaps - and double back again.  Get caught up in circular conversations in my head.  Just like a lab rat in a maze.  Not something I'm particularly proud of.

The good news, I manage to get through a maze much faster these days.  Only a month this go round.

The bad news, the sad news, it took Hurricane Sandy to snap me out of it.  Seeing the devastation, entire neighborhoods destroyed, children lost, lives disrupted perhaps forever. The water, the mud, the fires. Anguish, grief, unbelievable loss.  Every day another wrenching story. A sobering reminder to get a grip! Quick! "There but for the grace....."

Outwardly, nothing much has changed here in St. George.  Yes, it's cooler.  But my vote still won't count.  I know I will worry whenever John so much as coughs.  I can't seem to lose these ten pounds.  TV continues to annoy me.  Strangers will persist in calling me dear and honey. And whenever I enter a room and can't remember why, I still won't like it.

But internally, the walls of this maze have collapsed. The moment even a brick appears, I remind myself of the advice I so easily give someone else - to consider the alternative.  Now, I'm not so naive as to expect I'll never construct another maze and wander around a bit, but  I may just have a couple posters made - CONSIDER THE ALTERNATIVE - so that it doesn't take another disaster to snap me out of it!

A Great Question

I've been journaling a lot lately, more than usual actually, not that you'd know it by my blogging; but those pages, in my virtual journal, are not intended for public purview.  (In fact, I need to put it in my will that they're to be burned!)

I've had the long hot, unstructured days of the Utah summer and the impetus of some introspective reading to ponder a few provocative questions - questions that require significant reflection and potentially painful honesty.  Questions whose answers can be contradictory on any given day, and freqently muddled.  Occasionally, however, if I persist, press through the muck and the mire, I am rewarded with an "AHA!"  So, I keep journaling.

A particularly provocative question, by the author, Patti Digh, has been at the center of my ruminations. "What is the magic yardstick against which you measure your life?"  I've devoted more than a few pages to this question, partly because the standard of measurement, now that I've retired, is still morphing. And perhaps, because I really never took time to consider as broad a question until these past few months.  Too busy, too caught up in daily demands to think this philosophically?!?

I've dissected the success (or failure) of an event or a project; lost sleep considering the quality of a relationship; analyzed ad nauseum why I may feel the way I do at any given moment or think the way I do about a given issue, or person, or myself, but never this particular question.

It's a question I wish someone had asked me at other crossroads in my life.  I might have gotten over my divorce sooner.  Not been so hurt or angry when I didn't measure up to someone else's yardstick.  Not tried so hard to measure up.  I would have questioned not only whose yardstick, but why it sometimes felt as though the yardstick was longer for me than others around me.  I might have taken more satisfaction in my accomplishments.

As the saying goes, however, that's water over the dam.  One of the greatest opportunities of any transition is the chance to take the time to recalibrate the yardstick.  Perhaps to redefine the standard of measurement!  To answer this question, and others of a similar depth, consciously, clearly and confidently.  I'm taking the time and making progress.



Oh, I Get It!

 

"Your library is your portrait"     ~ Holbrook Jackson

 

 

I came across this quote while searching for a quote to stimulate a journal entry and, intrigued by the idea, decided to examine my library for what it might say about me.  Like a portrait or photograph.  What would it convey to a stranger looking at it for the first time?  Who would he/she think I am simply by checking out my books? (Is this why I check out other people's libraries - to get a better sense of who they are?)

 

Interesting exercise!  Obvious, I think, that I learn by reading.  Not everyone learns this way, I understand.  But I have books everywhere.  On shelves, in baskets, on table tops and piles on the floor.  And at least half are non-fiction, even on my Kindle.

 

I love to have choice, options, plenty of resources, multiple resources. No wonder it's been so challenging to cull my library, why I'm still at it after a couple years of schlepping shopping bags full of books to the local library.

 

My history is as evident in my books as in the wrinkles on my face.  Books from my teaching, training and coaching days; one shelf devoted to the non-fiction that has made the biggest impact on my thinking.  Topics I've studied vigorously.  Others long abandoned.  Some I think I should be interested in, but finally admit I'm not.  A record of interests past and present, some attempted, some not. (Why do I hang onto those cookbooks?!)

 

My abiding curiosity about the human condition is apparent in the bevy of self-help and psychology books that date back to the 60's and 70's, as well as in a preponderance of novels marked by strong and interesting character development.  No science fiction.  No romance novels.

 

But most of all, I finally get it - get why this culling process has been such a long drawn out affair.  Why some people can't even consider it.  Books have kept me company during the loneliest periods of my life.  Still comfort me on those nights I can't get back to sleep.  They've provided validation for unpopular opinions, challenged my biases, offered distinctions that cleared the cobwebs of anxiety and confusion, and  raised questions and insights that have led me down paths I might never have traveled.  Their authors have been friend and mentor, critic and coach. They've brought me to tears and called forth waves of laughter.

 

What would it say about me if I could give them up easily?

 

Yup, interesting exercise.

 

 

 

 

 



How Quickly We Forget

A sign of the times? With the exception of a few guest appearances on TV by some Olympic gold medalists, the games are "last week's news." All the hoopla, the real and fabricated rivalries, the daily medal count, the endless commentary, the dissection of each performance, the statistics, the broken records - over. The pomp and circumstance, like the flame, extinguished.

I do love the Olympics, especially the summer Olympics, but not for any of the above. Rather, it's the human element that grabs and holds my interest. The individual stories of dedication, discipline, and drive. Dreams realized and dreams crushed. Arrogance and humility side by side. The commitment of not just the athletes, but their families, and coaches, and communities. The incredible sacrifice for the sheer possibility of - in most cases - simply participating.

So, the two moments from these games that I place in my album of Olympic memories have nothing to do with gold medals or broken records. Not even anything to do with US athletes, but rather with two individuals whose names I can't recall, and in the case of one of them, the country she represented.

The first, the young South African runner, competing in a semi-final heat, finishing last, but finishing - on prosthetic blades he's worn since losing both legs as a child. Cheered on by the crowd and embraced by the winner, it didn't matter that he finished last. He finished. And realized his dream of competing against able-bodied runners in the Olympics and making it to the semi-finals. No medal, no beating his chest, no self-congratulatory boasts. Just humble acknowledgment, satisfaction, and appreciation.

The second image - one I caught accidentally. A young female runner, the first woman representative of her Arabic nation. No skin tight leotard for her. Again, finishing last, but finishing. Her own record, though. The first woman - from an Arabic nation!

I've thought about these two young people often this past week. About their courage, persistence and tenacity in the face of overwhelming obstacles, obstacles most Americans can't imagine. Driven, not by gold medals or breaking records, or potential endorsements, but by some inner desire to do their personal best. And in doing so, accomplishing what so many would consider impossible.

I'm chagrined by my ruminations over how to spend my summer. So thank you, wherever you are, for your inspiration.  For reminding me, once again, that what I complain about or fret over is often merely inconvenient or uncomfortable!



Delayed Reaction

July in St. George - the dog days of summer. Daily temperatures between 100-115, driving the snowbirds north and full time residents in search of cooler climates for vacations. Putting many community activities on hiatus for July and August - activities that occupied much of my time these past months.

This abrupt cessation in activity, a regular occurrence every summer in St. George, is new to us, and I have found it disconcerting to say the least. With our house in order, and major projects complete, I felt adrift.  Initially reacted with uncharacteristic angst and anxiety.  I slept poorly, watched a lot of mindless TV, got lost in computer games. Finally, bored and frustrated with myself, I turned inward and dove into my personal journal, writing page after page of "what is going on here?" Surfacing every day just a little clearer, a little more focused.

My conclusion, duh!!!  In retrospect, so obvious. If I were observing someone else, I could have called it in a heartbeat. Having no children, no longer a career, no all-consuming projects (like moving in), no special avocation, and suddenly very little external structure, I'm finally facing retirement straight on. This transition is far from complete.

So, now I'm deep into the my journal considering questions like:

• What, if any, issues have I been avoiding related to retirement?
• How much freedom is too much freedom?
• How many choices are effective? Should I be deciding or continue exploring?
• When is enough, enough?
• Of the several activities I pursued last fall, which do I want to continue and why?
• I most enjoyed my drawing class and suspect drawing could become a true avocation, not just a hobby...so what's holding me back?
• What if I carve out a studio niche? 
• How about returning to college rather than take community courses?
• How can I contribute more to this community that I have grown to love?
• How will I use this gift of unstructured time to create more structure for myself - driven more internally than externally?

Next summer, the only challenge I'd like to consider is how to deal with the heat!!

,

Questions, I've Got Miles and Miles of Questions!

A few years ago, I read The Answer to How Is Yes, by Peter Block, in which he posed that we are asking ourselves and our organizations the wrong questions, and thus arriving at inadequate, frequently poor answers/solutions.  He postulated six more potent questions, the last of which I found to be the most provocative.

"What is the question whose answer would set you free?"  Even though I couldn't come up with a good example of such a question at the time, I filed it away, satisfied that I would recognize one when I heard or saw it - or better yet, posed one myself.

Well, I've stumbled upon a great example, for me at this point in my life.  For others who are in the midst of a transition, I suspect.  Wish I'd come across it at other turning points in my life!  The question? 

"What is it too soon for, too late for, just the right time for? ~ Dawna Markova 

Haven't got an easy answer, but that's one of my criteria for a good question.  No quick or glib or superficial response will do.  The question persists, niggling at the corners of my mind, burbling in the background like our water fountain, surfacing when I least expect it.  Demanding an answer. Even as I engage with it in my daily journal, as I have on several occasions, I end up with cursory or partial answers, and yet more questions.  Why do I think it's too late?  Who says so? Why am I hesitating? What if.....?

 And then, another question from the archives - What would you attempt if you knew you would not fail? ~ Robert Schuller

So, for the time being, just hanging out in the ambiguity, trusting that within this, no, these questions, is the kernel of something interesting and exciting for the future. 



The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

My attention was captured by the first trailer I saw. Dames Judi Dench and Maggie Smith, Tom Wilkinson - a cast of wonderful British actors in one film.  I wondered, however, if it was a chick flick and an aging chick flick at that. Could I convince John to come with me - he who loves special effects and has difficulty understanding accents?

Fortunately, word-of-mouth endorsements have been building in our retirement community and I reminded him that he had enjoyed "Midnight in Paris".  So we attended a Saturday matinee with perhaps a hundred other folks of our generation and, surprisingly, more than a few younger.

It was an appreciative audience, grateful I suspect to see performers of such depth and breadth depicting our generation, woefully neglected in the cinema, as capable of not only managing change, but generating it.  Capable of healing the past and orchestrating an invigorating future.  Riding a motorcycle through the teeming traffic of Jaipur?  Looked pretty invigorating to me.

It is a sweet and compassionate film, presenting its characters - the elderly British and the young Indians - as well as India itself, with sensitivity and respect. (Judi Dench's character, Evelyn, easily could become a poster child for how to age with dignity). 

So, whatever the critics and pundits may say about this film, we loved it as did that Saturday audience, youngsters included, who left smiling, chattering, many eager to tell friends and family they have to see it.  I, for one, intend to see it again!



I Hope You Dance

I've come to believe that one of life's greatest challenges is to stay grounded in the present moment; at least, it is for me. Granted, it can be vital to deal with the past and an uncertain future can scream to be shaped and secured, yet, it is the present moment that bears the unexpected gift and opportunity. And I almost missed it last night.

It was the first auditions for So You Think You Can Dance, a show I have grown to love; but the real action starts when the top 20 young dancers have been chosen, so it was tempting to skip for now.  However, It is also one of the few shows John and I enjoy watching together; so I chose to at least give it a shot.

Now, I can become easily distracted by an incomplete chore, an upcoming event, a niggling worry, something else I'd rather be doing.  My mind wanders, I fuss and fidget. I get up during every commercial. Last night, thankfully, I stayed engaged and was rewarded by examples of grace and commitment, of kindness, dignity and sensitivity. And pure, unadulterated joy.

There were, of course, the young dancers, many delusional, I fear.  Some quite talented, and a few AWESOME - with a combination of talent, skill and passion. They are why I watch this show and am never disappointed.  Last night, however, it was a judge who captured my attention and my heart (for other afficianadoes - Nigel).  Quite unexpectedly, too, as I have an historical bias against him shaped by what I have considered to be past inappropriate behavior and comments.  Last night, he blew it all away with three exchanges.

One, with a young autistic man who has a desire to dance, but alas, neither talent nor skill.  Nigel let him down gracefully, treating him with great dignity and respect, commending the young man's courage in performing before a crowd and encouraging him to continue dancing.  It was a demonstration of kindness and consideration we could use more of. 

The second, when another young man said he was auditioning so that his mother, in the rear of the audience, afflicted with a rare eye disease that was destroying her vision, could see him perform on stage before it was too late. Nigel brought her forward, gave her his seat and held her hand. Whatever else happens in this competition for her son, they will have that moment etched in their memories. And so will John and I.

The last, the moment I most treasure. A young mother of two, also in the audience, was to perform. Nigel call the youngsters, aged 2 and 6, up front to watch their mom.  When she finished, quite successfully, she commented that her two-year old daughter also loved to dance.  Well, even if you didn't see it, you can guess what happened next.  Up on stage the toddler hopped, resplendent in her little pink tutu,  - and proceded to twirl and dip and point a tiny toe. To dance with joyous abandonment, present only to the music and some inner imperative to move. An infectious joy that touched the judges, the audience and the two of us.

I've thought of that toddler frequently today. Of her delight, her complete absorption in the moment. Of the parents who have obviously encouraged and nurtured her. Of what it might feel like to dance with such abandon, such joy, such presence.



Transitions 101

A couple months ago, motivated after reading life is a verb, by Patti Digh, I went on a clearing, simplifying campaign, determined to put the finishing touches on our move here. Although to outside eyes we looked settled in, I knew there were boxes still unpacked, stuff crammed under the bed and in closet corners. Plus, from past transitions, I have come to believe that any true beginning requires a genuine ending. 

So I set upon my campaign with a vengeance. The result is magazine spread worthy, if I do say so myself. Every shelf organized, boxes labeled in fancy fonts ( label fanatics, you've got to get the Epson 300, such fun.), furniture repositioned, artwork exchanged.  Several trips to Catholic Charities, who may petition to have us declared saints!

Among the book shelves, organized by genre, of course, and balanced with favorite mementoes and even a degree of space, there is now one special shelf. It is home to a dozen books whose titles comprise my personal study guide to dealing with transtion. A dozen books that had been scattered throughout the house. Read over 35 years, dog-earred, underlined, one or two tear-stained, they provide a chronicle of changes managed well and not so well, as surely as any photo album. 

Seeing them on one shelf has inspired me to reread a few. I wonder if they will be as meaningful to me today? What would you add to this list?

• If You Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him, by Sheldon Kopp
• The New Diary, by Tristine Rainer
• A Room of Her Own, by Chris Casson Madden
• A Conscious Life, by Fran and Louis Cox
• Flow, by Mihalyi Csikzentmihalyi
• Choice Theory, by William Glasser, M. D.
• Gift to the Sea, by Anne Morrow Lindbergh
• The Artist's Way, by Julia Cameron
• Transitions, by William Bridges
• A Simpler Way, by Margaret J. Wheatley and Myron Kellner-Rogers
• The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, by Jean-Dominique Bauby
• The Answer to How Is Yes, by Peter Block

The e-reader? Well, my most recent read, life is a verb, is stored on my Kindle. I may just have to get it in hardback - to place on the shelf.

How Could I Forget?

I thought I could manage this transition with my hands tied behind my back. Divorce, remarriage, several major moves, cancer, career challenges and changes, parental care-giving, death and dying. I've known my share. Retirement, should be a breeze.

In fact, I thought I'd been doing a remarkable job so far, managing this transition more gracefully than any other previously. Proud of myself, maybe just a bit smug. After all, we'd moved from Vegas within 27 days, downsized from two homes to one, created new routines, signed up for classes, taken up hobbies long forgotten or intended, and all in less than a year. Told friends and family that I'd never felt so content. And meant it.

How could I forget? Forget that just when you think you're well on the road to a new beginning, you can expect the proverbial bump, even a massive pothole to remind you to slow down, maybe take an alternate route, or even turn back.

I've been reminded.  In February, I began to notice that I was feeling "out of sorts", sleeping erratically, restless, frequently frustrated or annoyed, easily disappointed or angry.  At first, I credited the shift to receiving distressing news from a family member, and then to having read some deeply thought-provoking books, and then to both.  Whatever the catalyst, I pulled back as I am wont to do, and filled reams of journal pages. Revisiting again and yet again, what's going on? Why now? What should I/could I do to move through this? 

I finally stepped back and regrouped, realized that I needed to create the space and time to face more deliberately this massive change in my life, in our lives together.  This complex transition we simply call retirement.  To experience more fully what I have understood intellectually - that this may be one of the most significant transitions of my life. To slow down.

To allow all the emotions - emotions too easily masked or denied by a busy schedule of doing.  Not just the pleasure of meeting new people, the satisfaction of interesting new experiences. Not just the relief of leaving Vegas. But also the pain of great loss - the sense of worth and contribution I've known over the years of teaching and training; the unsettling uncertainty of future health challenges; the anxiety when I meet another widow or widower; the nagging everyday worries that aging brings.

To pay more attention to completing where I've been so I can move forward as gracefully as I'd like, as I thought I'd been doing.  So, while away from this blog, I also have been reorganizing, starting as I usually do, with my environment.   Literally attacking the last visible phase of letting go, making those decisions I've put off, getting rid of yet more stuff we no longer need, or use, or will use.  Attacking even those ultimate guardians of the past, my closet and the garage.

And as I continue to sort and donate and toss, rethinking. What activities do I want to continue? Relinquish? What adds genuine value? How can I use what I am learning to support my husband, my family and friends who are facing their own transitions?  How can I still make a difference?

So...if you've visited this site before, you'll see that I'm reorganizing it, too.  If this is your first visit, I hope it won't be your last. I promise I won't be so lengthy in the future.  And to any and all who venture here, whether deliberately, or accidentally, may my reflections be of some assistance - or at least, interest. May we learn from one another - how to thrive, not merely survive, in the midst of transition.


Are you in the midst of a significant transition in your life?

What's a Girl to Do?

Have really been chewing on the question of when enough is enough. And wouldn't you know it, in the midst of all my considering, observing, deliberating, pondering - I came across two seemingly opposing points of view.

The first, on a tv show on the local education channel. The topic - simplification. The premise - that we have too many choices, more choice with less available time. The solution - reduce the number of choices by resisting advertising, shopping where there are fewer choices, and creating and following few and simple routines.

The second point of view, from a book titled life is a verb.  The topic - living more intentionally.  The premise - that we limit ourselves by doing and thinking the same things, playing it safe.  The solution - every day for 37 days do something that takes you out of your comfort zone. See a movie you wouldn't typically consider, listen to music you wouldn't typically choose, try a new restuarant, learn about a topic that challenges your current thinking, etc., etc.

Too many choices? Not enough? What's a girl to do!? Well, I really hate either/or. So in the spirit of both/and, my solution (at least for now) is to significantly limit the number of choices related to material "stuff"  by simplifying our environment, limiting spending, developing simpler household and personal routines...while ALSO listening to music I'd never entertain before, taking a drawing class, reading genres of writing I've avoided in the past, trying out alternative routes, even cooking occasionally!

And...so far, so good!

So Many Questions, So Little Time

        "Judge a man by his questions, not his answers."   -  Voltaire

Love this quote, and love a good question.  One that provokes deeper thinking, a challenge to static opinions, a quest for new possibilities. Especially, of myself.  Questions that further understanding and new learning.  Sometimes I go in search of them.  Other times they pop up at unexpected times and from unexpected sources.  Usually, they serve me well.

So, I find myself pondering several questions regarding this issue of considering alternatives:

• Why can/do I generate alternatives more easily in some areas of my life than in others?
• Why is the generation of alternative approaches or possibilities so satisfying in itself?
• Do I/when do I hang out in possibilities to avoid a difficult decision or to avoid having to take action?
• What criteria can I use to judge when/if I have too many alternatives to consider, or, conversely, too few?
• I dislike, even distrust, either/or thinking - is this at the heart of why our political "debate" infuriates me so much?  Why I also see the polarization as frightening, rather than merely frustrating? 
• Under why conditions am I willing to consider alternatives (whether opinions or recommendations) posed by others?  Under what conditions do I shut down or dismiss outright?  What are the implications - for me, for my relationships?

I want to hang out with these questions for awhile, just pay attention, notice, reflect.  Not settle for the obvious or easy answers.


                                                

When Is Enough Enough?

Normally reflective, I become even more so over the holiday and this year, having a nasty head cold, confined to bed or huddled under an afghan in my favorite recliner, I have given a lot of thought to this seemingly need/drive I have to create alternatives, to consider options, to seek other possibilities.  Some of what I have to share will probably make anyone who knows me say "DUH, that's obvious! You haven't known this before?!" I have, but I don't know that I've considered some of the implications that have become clearer - and that I want to address. So, here goes:

• Being raised by strict parents and educated by even stricter nuns to think and behave by limited rules and imperatives, I resist anything that smacks of 'because I said so.'  I particularly resist dogma and polarized options.  Either/or, right/wrong, good/bad, all/nothing - too simplistic, too limiting. No wonder I have so little patience with our so-called political debate. Why I am close to despair about the lack of public discourse. Why I can't bear the talk shows, the political pundits.
• Conversely, my experience in the 60's, meeting foreign graduate students for the first time, exposed to alternative cultures, differing opinions in an atmosphere of challenging thought and long-held beliefs, I developed a deep appreciation for learning from and with others that persists to this day. Aha - so that's why I'm so pleased with the little book club I've found. The discussions there remind me of these earlier conversations.
• Later,trained in skills of critical thinking, committed for years to teaching youngsters to think critically, I love open-ended, provocative questions. I enjoy the process of examining issues from different perspectives, and see the cost to our reluctance to doing so in our public life.
• And, seeing alternatives and having several choices before making my own decisions has become my measure of personal success and independence.

All understandable, benign, certainly has served me well in difficult times. But I am seeing some of the downside...as I declutter, remove 15 books on the same topic, toss projects begun but incomplete, donate clothes I've rarely worn, contemplate yet another diet.  And in the midst of it all, I came across this little quote, "Happiness is a place between too little and too much."  So I leave this entry with the questions foremost in my thoughts right now...how much is too little"?  How much is too much?  When is enough enough?