It's the Simple Things

"There are only two ways to live your life.  One is as though nothing is a miracle.  The other is as though everything is a miracle."

~Albert Einstein

I've kept a gratitude journal for years.  Long before Oprah recommended it.  The practice reminds me to look for daily small miracles.  Keeps me moving just a bit more gracefully through the muck and mire that life can deliver.  Some days I can list a dozen things I'm grateful for.  Other days I simply repeat, "I made it through the day."

After a recent challenging day when I kept bumping into sad and troubling news, I sat down and pressed myself to list 25 things.  I came up with the following:

• the first Bing cherries of the season
• a single beautiful Henry Fonda rose
• the litter of feral kittens using our backyard as their playground
• enjoying a movie matinee with John
• homemade chocolate chip cookies, fresh out of the oven
• an unexpected visit from an old friend
• a glass of wine with a new friend
• the recommendation of a good book that delivers as promised
• an e-mail that brings a belly laugh
• frozen yogurt with chocolate sprinkles on top
• the new season of So You Think You Can Dance
• a phone call from my brother or sister
• a hummingbird hovering over the feeder
• a mug of iced sun tea
• comfortable shoes
• a leisurely early morning walk
• salmon sunsets
• and coral dawns
• a musical performance under the stars
• any Castle rerun
• finding something I thought I had lost
• solving a challenging Sudoku, or a jigsaw puzzle, or a crossword puzzle
• a smile from a stranger
• learning to do something, anything, no mater how small on the computer - on my own
• and always - "I love you"

Small miracles, but miracles nonetheless.  And it helped.  Now, can I come up with another 25 gratitudes?  What would John's list would contain?  Yours?

When in Doubt...

" The wisdom of the wise, and the experience of ages may be preserved by quotation."

~Isaac D'Israeli

I recently received a couple e-mail invitations to participate in a chain of one's favorite inspirational quote.  I haven't yet responded - not because I don't have one, but rather because I have so many that I am having difficulty choosing only one.

I started using quotations to inspire journal writing years ago, have favorite books of collections of quotes and a notebook of inspirational quotes from  books I've read.  For years, I've turned to a quote when I feel unmotivated to write or feel stalled or find myself chewing on an issue or concern.  A good quote always gets me going again.  

So one?  The most inspirational?  These are some of my current favorites...

• "Things do not change; we change."     ~Henry David Thoreau
• "The old woman I shall become will be quite different from the woman I am now.  Another I is beginning."   ~ George Sand
• "Life's challenges are not supposed to paralyze you, they're supposed to help you discover who you are."    ~ Bernice Johnson Reagon
• "Living is a constant process of deciding what we are going to do."      ~Jose Ortega y Gasser
• "No day is so bad it can't be fixed with a nap."       ~Carrie Snow
• "Life only demands from the strength you possess.  Only one feat is possible - not to have run away."            ~Dag Hammarskjold
• "We have enough people who tell it like it is - now we could use a few who tell it like it can be."             ~ Robert Orben
• "Whether you think you can or you can't, you're right."        ~Henry Ford

and...."Be kind - everyone is fighting a hard battle."

In Search of Inspiration

“Unfortunately, we don't have all that many good examples to follow. The people that our cultures label as "successful" are the ones who have become wealthy or famous or celebrities, but the truly successful people--those who have become happy and who are living happy, loving, giving lives--aren't often featured in our newspapers or newscasts. We see the politicians and the criminals and the athletes and the entertainment "stars," but we don't see the people who can truly inspire us to be happy by being just who we are.” 
― Tom Walsh

The author of this quote, Tom Walsh, business columnist for the Detroit Free Press, could be describing our current culture, at least as I see it.  And coming across his quote to a degree reassuring. I'm not just an old-fashioned prude, or out of touch - not with it.  I was beginning to wonder if I were sounding like my mother in her final years, something I vowed I would never do. But I have felt this way for some time now.

It's not that there are no wonderful, courageous dedicated folks out there.  It's that we, as a culture, don't seem to value them very much, if our media is an indication of what we hold to be important and cherished.. We are inundated with stories of the rich and famous (or infamous); we are asked to vote on who is to blame for the latest assault; our respect is demanded by people who do not appear to respect others; we are "entertained" by people who dress and behave as though they don't respect themselves.  It's enough to make a grown woman cry. Or become cynical and even, occasionally, afraid.

Fortunately, there are wonderful, courageous and dedicated folks out there. Occasionally, they even show up on TV, usually on Sunday morning, or after a catastrophe or disaster.  Everyday folks who rise to the occasion or who are dealing with personal challenges with grace and dignity.  Like the survivors of the Boston Marathon bombing.  Like the individuals and communities that band together to help a family in need or to clean up neighborhoods.  And the occasional celebrity who makes a genuine and dedicated commitment to a cause - I immediately think of Gary Sinise and his support of the Wounded Warrior Project.  

We all can use good examples.. Not just children.  We need them at all stages of our lives. Not to emulate but to inspire.  To inspire us to live "happy, loving, giving lives."  Not  perfect heroes or heroines or  larger than life figures.  But people we can identify with.  People who present possibilities within our reach if only we will reach a little higher. People who strive for something other than money or image, who care about others, who treat others with respect. The neighbor who watches our home when we are on vacation or the stranger who stops to help with a flat tire.  Perhaps someone ahead of us in the stream of life.  Or someone behind us from whom we can learn or just enjoy being with.

I used to ask workshop participants and coaching clients to select five individuals, living or dead, real or imaginary,  who would serve as a board of directors for their lives.   They would find the task challenging, if not impossible.  Today I would ask a different question, one that I am asking myself.  Who inspires you from the people you know and engage with?  With great relief and satisfaction, I can answer that question - easily.  My list includes a friend who can defuse any potential upset with humor and finesse.  Another who is facing a terminal illness with awesome dignity.  My sister who has the clearest and most responsible boundaries I have ever experienced.  My brother who has an insatiable thirst for learning, not mere knowledge, but genuine learning.  My husband who really does forgive and forget....and more.

But I have to admit, I also find Dame Judi Dench inspiring!

Who inspires you?

  

  

I

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.

  

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

"Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old."    

                                                                            ~Franz Kafka

I love a good quote.  One that expresses what I'm thinking or feeling, succinctly, or lyrically.  One that inspires me to see the world in a new way.  Or captures an opinion with compassion or humor.  

I've started to collect quotes about aging, thinking they'd make great intros to these postings. Been amazed to see how many are out there, how many seem so apropos.  I don't memorize many - these days I'm lucky to remember why I've gone to another room!  But I glance over them now and then, usually when I'm being particularly reflective or when I'm considering something to write.  It still can surprise me to come upon a quote that seems to leap off the page, so perfect is it for the moment or circumstance.

Take this Kafka quote.  And this scene....

This is St. George.  This is our street.  This is the aftermath of 6 inches of snow, and the lowest temperatures recorded here in 74 years.  This is a city with one snowplow (assigned full time to the local airport) and many snowbirds who live here partime to escape these very conditions. A city with many  folks who don't know how to drive on snow.  Who don't own a shovel and don't want tol  Some folks who saw this storm only as an inconvenience, something to be endured.

And others who took it all in with wonder and joy.  Who delighted in watching children build snowmen.  Who took the opportunity to revisit the storms of their childhood that shut down school and brought with them tunnels and forts and snowball fights.  Who bundled up and captured the beauty as best they could.

Yesterday I attended an event where everyone was over 60 and the difference in the two points of view was glaringly apparent.  In the very absence of any negativity, any complaining from those who attended ...arriving in cars driven by those with four wheel drive.  Walking cautiously over ice lest they fall and break a hip!  Holding on to one another, and "laughing all the way." Greeting each other with "Isn't it beautiful?!"  Sharing stories of the snowstorms of their childhood or removing snow from their driveways with a broom, even a rake.  The room was filled with laughter, enthusiasm, and delight.  

This is my book club - 20 or so men and women whose company I treasure.  I would have said I treasure them because they are bright and curious, respectful of each other's opinions, diverse in life experiences, and rich in skills and talents.  They are. Today, I understand another contribution they make to my life.  They have the "ability to see beauty" and revel in it.  And so, without saying it, they refuse to grow old.  So do I!!!

p.s.  In case I don't post again before the New Year, happy holidays to all and may you be surrounded by beauty.

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.

 

 



After All These Years....

After several years of setting goals over the holidays, using several (often laborious)approaches, I almost decided to forego the process this year.  After all, I'm retired now.  Why drive myself?  The main goal for the year - enjoy life!  Then I stumbled upon two questions raised by Patti Digh, author of life is a verb.  Digh doesn't write goals, but uses questions like these to guide her during the year.  The questions:

          What do I want to create this year?
          What am I ready to release this year?

Now, I love chewing on a good question. Love the sense of clarity that can emerge, the new possiblity that presents itself, the visceral satisfaction of discovering a powerful answer when most needed.  So, I've been playing with these questions for a few weeks now, just considering, listing ideas as possibilities.  Adding to the lists.  Some of my ideas:

What do I want to create?

• an art studio
• an organized garage
• mini-scrapbooks of cherished memories
• new memories, especially
• a cruise to Alaska to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary
• greater self-discipline - read "healthier habits"
• etc., etc.

What am I ready to release?

• clothes I don't wear
• boxes we've moved for the past 10 years without opening
• my tendency to worry
• ten lbs. - the same ten lbs. I've said I'd lose for the past 10 years!!
• habits that don't serve me well
• etc., etc.

In the process of creating these lists, three things have happened.  First, I've shifted from thinking about what I should do this year  to what I genuinely want to do... a seismic shift in itself.  Second, I've already acted on a few ideas - the cruise is booked, the "studio" is underway, we've been working in the garage and...I've tossed out boxes of old journals!  All within 3 weeks!  And third, because these questions have been so helpful, I'm playing with a few of my own:

• What do I want to learn this year?
• What do I want to attempt?
• What do I want to finish?
• What do I want to celebrate?

Finally, in the process of creating these lists, I have also created some goals for 2013...after all these years, some habits do persist.  But this year, using these questions to guide my thinking, the process has been fascinating, easy and even enjoyable.  Thank you, Patti!

The Gift of a New Year

It has been an interesting day - not what I had expected.  Not a typical New Year's Day.  In fact, I thought we'd be celebrating somewhere else, even had made the plans to do so.  But John has picked up a virus and I'm still hobbling a bit from the fall I took just before Thanksgiving.  We did manage to watch the Rose Bowl Parade together and were, as usual, awed by the color and the creativity, moved by a touching reunion of a young military family, impressed  by the precision of the marching bands. Then he disappeared into football games and I retreated to catch an old favorite, "Sleepless in Seattle."  A quiet day.  A tranquil day, virus included, hobbling included.

After this past year, a trying year of endless campaigning, dysfunctional bipartisanship, natural  disaster upon natural disaster, murder and mayhem, the loss of a family member - a quiet day, a day to just relax, to smile, and be reminded that people can come together safely and joyfully is a good day.  

Our holidays have, in fact, been a series of quiet days.  Reflective days.  Still affected by the tragedy in Newtown and our personal loss, and frustrated by the fiasco in Washington, our relationship, our home, and our community have become increasingly the focus of our attention.  Are we unusual,  I wonder.  Is this the silver lining in the pervasive thunder clouds of 2012?  That we can become more conscious of what's important to us.  That we can focus on nurturing and enjoying it.  That we can choose to focus our efforts on what we can impact.  That we can reject the fear and anger, the blame and insanity.  That we can hold the possibility that 2013 will be a better year, a healthier and happier year.

 

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.



"Hope Springs"

I hadn't thought about her for years, but since seeing "Hope Springs" recently, she's in the forefront of my memories.  Her name was Jane. I say was because, although I lost track of her,I know she's deceased.  If there is a heaven, she surely has made it.

Jane was 30 years my senior. Soft-spoken,serene, raised a Quaker, she moved through the world with a quiet charm and grace. She gave meaning to a word we didn't use to describe people in the 70's - she was grounded.

I wasn't grounded. One year after a painful and contentious divorce, I vacillated between anger and anxiety. Jane welcomed me, not with pity, but with compassion and an appreciation for skills and expertise I felt had abandoned me.  As we worked together to produce a critical thinking course for a pre-adolescent religion class, she became my anchor, a touchstone for calm and reason. I so admired and respected her. And I envied her - with a capital E.

Jane was married to a well-respected and well-love physician who obviously respected and loved Jane. Greeted her with open affection. Had a pet term of endearment. Touched her frequently. Listened attentively. Everything I had wanted in a husband, and didn't have.

One afternoon, sharing a glass of wine with them in their beautiful and comforting home, I confessed my envy.  There was a quick glance between them, a smile, a nod.  "Oh, honey, it hasn't always been this good."  They then proceeded to give me a quick synopsis of the rocky road they had traveled to get to the state of wedded bliss I was privileged to observe.

A tumultuous road. Nearly divorcing three times until their grown children, weary of the perpetual angst, called for a family intervention - another term uncommon in the 70's!
Their message, their demand - figure out what it takes to be happy together or divorce and get on with life.

With the help of a good therapist, (I now picture Steve Carrell), Jane and Doc came to realize that they carried so much baggage because they had never learned to fight well. Oh, they "discussed" things, increasingly argued, but their arguments were never resolved to  their mutual satisfaction. Usually, it seemed, to Doc's satisfaction. So, after almost 40 years of marriage, raising 4 children together, steeped in Quaker tradition, Doc and Jane learned to fight to a mutually safisfying conclusion.

By their accounts, they learned the hard way - by finishing the old arguments.  Jane, with a twinkle in her eye, illustrated by pointing out the pock marked fireplace, bearing the battle scars of a complete set of dishes destroyed in a fit of frustration and with a dose of satisfaction. Left unrepaired to remind them of their commitment to be happy together. Whatever it took.  Recalling that scene I still smill. I still sit in awe of that level of commitment.

Commitment is what I think "Hope Springs" is about. Not the humor conveyed in the publicity trailers. Although there are comedic moments, this is most definitely not a comedy.
Not even the sexual frustratrations of a long and increasingly unfulfilling marriage. Although the sexual difficulties are the emphasis of the movie, and heads up, there are a couple scenes that could be uncomfortable.  At the heart of this drama is a couple who, like Doc and Jane make a commitment to finally learn how to be happy together. Whatever it takes.

So, I enjoyed "Hope Springs".  I'm pretty sure not everyone would.  It has, in fact, received mixed reviews. I doubt it will earn the amazing Meryl another Oscar nomination. But it is a courageous film, calling for vulnerability on the part of the cast and the audience.  It is a mature film.  Certainly thought provoking. Asking not what it takes just to stay married, but the level of commitment to be happily married.

And who knew that Tommie Lee Jones could be a romantic hero?  Hope springs!



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. 



Still Meaningful after All These Years

This year marks the tenth anniversary of my battle, no, war, with cancer.  I was operated on in April, 2002 and had chemo over the following months.   Now, summer in Vegas is brutal.  Throw in the brutality of chemo - well, I fought every day just to remain remotely optimistic.
Admittedly, I read a lot of lightweight, escapist novels when I wasn't watching old musicals.
I think I saw every Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly movie ever produced and know the words to every song in "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers" and "The Sound of Music". 

I also read several books on Buddhism and Taoism, and anything that promised to provide some inner peace, some sense that life would be even better when I got to the other side.  They helped. I read a lot! Therefore, when I recently created a home for the books that have mattered the most to me over the years, I was surprised to see that only one book from that period made the cut.

Most days that summer is a bittersweet memory, popping up again only when I have my bloodwork or hear of a friend or acquaintance waging the same war.  But I wondered as I put the book among its neighbors if I would find it as moving, as impactful as I did 10 years ago.  I wondered why, this book, of the many I read that summer, was so important.

So, I've started to reread I Will Not Die an Unlived Life, by Dawna Markova.  Although the title seems most appropriate for someone with a life-threatening disease and Markova was dealing with leukemia at the time, it is the larger theme of the book that should speak to more people, that speaks to me again at this time in my life - recovering passion and purpose.  I'm fascinated by the questions she asks of herself and her reader, wrestling with them in my journal.  And moved by her honesty, her compassion and her eloquence.  Beside being insightful and courageous in recounting her own journey, she is a beautiful writer. Her metaphors are magical, her stories engrossing.

It is a fine book that can remain relevant 10 years later, that can have meaning during the hard times and the good.  When I am done with it, it will be returned to that special shelf.

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.

Worth Remembering

Our 29th anniversary is quickly approaching. It's far too easy to see the passage of time these days - in the lines in our faces, the grey hair (or loss thereof), the widening waistlines. I am reminded every time one of us forgets what we were going to say, where we put our coffee mug, the name of a favorite movie.

I see reminders of our history in every corner of our home. The wall art John had before we married that he insisted (and I resisted) be placed over the fireplace. I admit it - it's perfect there. The slipper chair I had before we married that I insisted (and he resisted) be kept in the living room.  And he admits it - it's perfect there.

The etching we bought for our first anniversary at the art fair in Santa Barbara. We were sure the fair itself was a fortuitous gift designed just for us, only to discover it was a weekly event. Mementoes of trips to Hawaii and Italy. Furniture and accessories from the store in Las Vegas that came to know me on a first name basis. John was always convinced that my car turned into the parking lot automatically whenever we approached it. Photographs and artwork from friends, past and present. Gifts from our parents and siblings.

Reminders of almost three decades of facing challenges, expected and unexpected. Reminders that we have managed the changes and transitions of our lives together, for the most part, with grace and courage. That we are learning how to manage this transition together, too. 

Sometimes I get myopic and worry too much about a possible future alone. I forget to celebrate that I am fortunate to have such a good partner on this journey right here, right now.  Worth remembering every day. 

                                                                            t

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?

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.