Random Moments of Grace and Connection

You never know when a gift will present itself

I made it to the gym the other day, a success in and of itself. ( I claim my successes where I can these days!)

I was working out when I noticed this woman not far from me. She was working out steadily, strong and focused, radiating strength. She inspired me. She was a middle-aged woman who quietly with her very presence claimed her space and right to be there.

I love seeing women and their strength, especially those of us who are no longer in the youth club. It means even more to me these days to see the spirit, perseverance, and self-care.

I took a risk to reach out and say something (I can be shy at times) as I was walking by her and told her how strong she looked while I pumped up my arm in a gesture of strength. She giggled a bit. I walked on to my next machine.

Later, as I was on another machine, I heard a voice behind me saying “Excuse me”. I turned around and there she was. She smiled and said that she had seen me on the quadricep machine and that I also looked very strong, as she could not lift the number of weights that I was lifting at the time. I smiled as she left and as we wished each other a good rest of the day.

Here was a random connection of a mere few seconds that turned my day around. We had acknowledged each other and given each other a nod of appreciation and camaraderie. I had gone into the gym that morning feeling a bit down and less than motivated. Yet totally out of the blue, I received a gift of connection with a stranger that made us both smile.

It reminded me that you just never know where you will get a surprise connection if you take a chance to reach out to someone and let them know that you see them at that moment in time. I had been shy about approaching her yet felt compelled to say what I did. How many of us could use a moment of being seen, of being reached out to, simply because and for no other reason.

A random moment where two human beings stop their own individual routines to greet each other doesn’t sound like much on the surface but can go to surprising depths within.

There are so many opportunities for moments like this. If we take the chance, the rewards may be so much greater than we could ever expect.

We are all trying to do the best that we can, at least most of the time. Some days that may simply mean showing up and putting one foot in front of the other. Perhaps we can take a moment to look around, see who else may be putting one foot in front of the other that day and say hello, heart to heart. Everyone wants to be seen, heard, and to be acknowledged. What a gift to be able to do this randomly for someone with no expectations of anything in return, but simply to let them know that you see them right then.

This life is not easy. Aging is not easy. Some days the strength it takes to just get up is about all that we can manage.

We never know what someone else may be going through that day as well.

It can be easy to look for major moments and big thrills, which are fun, of course. But it can be the small random moments that give us the gift of realizing that we are not alone, that we belong, that we are part of something bigger, that we deserve to be celebrated simply for who we are at each moment.

As I continue my path of elderhood, these moments become more important to me. I realize how many of them that I may have missed in the past while I was busy working on my various to-do lists. I’m grateful to be more aware of these moments of grace now as I slow down to allow myself to see more around me.

And along those lines, I appreciate you, readers, who stop to take a moment to read something that I have written and then reach out to let me know how some of my words may have touched you. You don’t realize how that can turn around my day like a breath of fresh air.

We can do this for each other in the simplest ways, simple, but not without depth and meaning. A memory can be created, a gift of being touched, of being seen, of being recognized.

As Ram Dass wrote We are all just walking each other home. Maybe we can look around, reach out, and share a smile along the way.

Birthday Hangover

From feelings, not alcohol

I made it through my birthday yesterday. And I am surprised at the hangover feeling today. I feel hung over from feelings, thoughts, inner reactions, unsettledness.

Don’t get me wrong. I am so very grateful to still be here, still alive and on this earth and able to experience it all. It is a sacred gift and one that I realize that many people do not get to experience anymore. There are so many people that I have lost in my life, family, friends… all gone. I am blessed to still be here.

It’s interesting as I allow all the feelings and thoughts to surface and listen to what they have to tell me.

I had lovely calls, texts, and emails from friends that meant so much to me. I felt significant to them, seen, noticed, and honored that they took time to acknowledge and celebrate my special day.

My young neighbor stopped by with a cupcake with a candle singing happy birthday to me, while her puppy gave me lots of affection and playfulness. This was such a delight and gift. It touched my heart.

I tried to limit how much news I watched yesterday to take a bit of a break from the constant trauma of it all, but of course, the headlines still come through and I want to keep up with the latest so that I know enough of what is going on without constantly retraumatizing myself into immobility.

I feel a quietness inside, quietness that is tinged by some sadness and some bittersweetness. I look back at my life, marvel that so many years have gone by. I look at myself in the mirror and can still see all the faces that have looked back at me throughout the years, even if others only see the current version.

I look at my body and have the same experience of all the different bodies that have been reflected back at me, knowing that the only one seen today is the advanced version, the one that is more invisible, the one that can be categorized, discounted, and seen as less than, even by me.

I look around my house and see things that I still hang onto from years past, realizing that my house truly reflects an older person and not the modern clean versions that my younger neighbors have. I don’t know when that happened, and it catches me by surprise.

I see my closets and cupboards and see that it becomes easier to look more like a hoarder these days, and I don’t really know how that happened either. I used to have regular cleaning out and purging times and seem to have let that slip over the years. I have boxes in the garage whose content I don’t even remember. How important are they if I don’t even know what is inside?

I felt remembered on my birthday and that was special to me. I felt acknowledged. And I also feel the passage of time on this journey where I more and more feel the reality of the end of the path approaching.

The delightful woman who I have clean my house, who now feels like a friend, came by, having mistaken the day that she said that she would be by this month. She has also been a caregiver for an elderly woman for years, a woman who just turned 102 this week and who died the day after her birthday. She had been determined to celebrate this birthday, and she did. My friend, her caregiver, came in and sat down and talked about her grief, about the lovely relationship that she had experienced with this woman that she came to love. She let her tears flow. I think she needed to talk more than anything else, as she decided after we spoke for a while, to come back next week for the cleaning. I was honored to be able to listen to her and hold her grief with her for a while. Those moments are such precious random gifts in life, to be able to connect and touch another soul as we navigate this road of life.

My young neighbor’s playful puppy jumped up an down in excitement and accidentally scratched my arm. I still get amazed at how easily my skin tears these days, as I looked down and saw the blood flowing. I had hardly felt it, but there were the bleeding skin tears that needed to be dealt with. When did my skin get so fragile? Are things that fragile on the inside as well? It seems such solid proof of the deterioration of my body, things that we cannot control. The passage of time and its effects remind us of this all as we make our way to the end.

I felt slowed down and needing solitude yesterday, not going anywhere that I had planned. I needed to be quiet and in my home. I will go out today, perhaps make it to the redwoods today to hear their whispers and feel their wisdom.

I will keep going, keep doing things that I love as I am able…volunteer at our local zoo, volunteer at the wildlife hospital, write, hopefully paint again at some point, be in nature and honor this sacred gift of life to the end. But I know that the feelings will keep coming and I will do my best to listen to them all. They are part of the journey, some more pleasant than others, but all part of it. I will honor them all, with gratitude. What a journey this life has been and continues to be.

It’s time for my hangover cure….to breathe, get up, take a step, and keep going, with gratitude for it all.

My Last Day of Being 72

The next birthday is upon me

Tomorrow I will reach the age of 73. The number still somehow amazes me. When did that happen? I don’t remember. It’s all a blur after reaching 70. That felt like a major turning point.

Yes, I will hear age is just a number, life is what you make it, be grateful you have arrived as many people don’t get the chance to get here. I agree with all of that. And I still have the right to all my feelings about it. I feel gratitude for life, for being here still, for each breath. And I have other feelings about it too. That’s part of the joy and challenge of being human. We can contain so many different and sometimes conflicted feelings at the same time.

So, please bear with me as I express some of the feelings that can sometimes make others feel compelled to give me advice, which feels like telling me to not share those parts of me. The feelings are part of the mix, part of my story, part of my journey and do not negate the rest of the feelings. We sometimes have such a need to categorize things as good or bad, ok to feel or not, worthwhile or not. But they are just feelings that are part of my human experience. And it’s ok to feel them all. We can learn from all of it.

With that in mind, here is a bit of what is going on inside me today.

I am increasingly aware of the road before me being much shorter than the road behind me. I sometimes get scared of this great unknown. I am thinking that it is time to make the final arrangements. I have the estate plan, but have procrastinated on this last detail. It’s time.

I have issues from my past that I contain within me still. Somehow part of me must have believed that I would magically work through them all one by one and reach a state of not having them anymore. Well, that didn’t happen!

I still feel the feelings of my childhood, the critical voices that became part of my head that tried to steer me and protect me from more pain coming my way, the feelings of inadequacy, shame, regret, not being good enough, feeling less than whomever I might be comparing myself to, guilt about mistakes, and more.

I sometimes get lost in memories of the past that come uninvited. I try to acknowledge them, give them their due, and keep going. Some days that is easier to do than others. Today is not one of those days. It’s ok. There are still lessons to learn.

I have had my battles, my victories, my defeats. I have been in and out of relationships. I could have done better in them, but I did what I knew at the time. They each taught me something and got me to where I am today.

I was married and am so grateful for that experience and for the husband that I had. We divorced, and I am happy that he found someone that is a good fit and that he is still married to. I want the best for him. That wasn’t me. Too many conflicts arose from issues from my childhood that made it hard for me to allow intimacy beyond a certain level. I am single these days and grateful for the time left to be able to explore what is still within me that needs to be heard, validated, and allowed to be expressed and nurtured. I can now face myself alone (along with all the internal voices, of course) and really listen…at least some of the time.

I chose a career that might not have been my first love. But, I learned from it and now, in retirement, can choose activities that fit better with the voice of my soul.

I have been a people-pleaser and have chosen relationships from that dynamic, which has not always been the best for anyone. I look at that now and choose differently as to who is in my tribe and who I spend precious time with. There are times that spending time alone is the best companion that I need right then. I don’t give people a ticket to comment on who I am nearly as easily as I used to.

I have reached elderhood and find myself surprised to not have all the answers. Indeed, I seem to have more questions than ever but seem to have learned to live more comfortably with and in the questions. It is more ok to not know and say that.

Saying I don’t know is easier. Saying no is easier. Saying I need time to think about that is easier. That is a relief beyond description.

Today I will go and do one of my volunteer shifts at the zoo. It brings me joy to be around the animals, especially at our local zoo which works hard at putting the animals first, at conservation, at education. I love talking with the guests about their experience, teaching what I can, sharing the joy of being there, especially these days and with what we are dealing with in our country and in the world.

Tomorrow I think that I will take a long walk in the redwoods, which is my cathedral. Those ancient beings speak to my soul. I feel held there, loved there, accepted there, part of it all.

I will hear from friends with well wishes, and that is such a gift to have people in my life who remember me, care about me, and take the time to reach out and make contact.

Most of all, I will spend the day asking my soul and spirit how it is, what it may need from me, and do my best to listen and give myself what I need. Most of the time that is done in solitude for me, probably coming from having been an only child and having alone time be my safe place in the world.

And I will be expressing and feeling deep gratitude for it all. I feel grateful for the joy, the pain, the lessons, the grief, the connections, the very air that I breathe in this body that I have been gifted for a while. Part of my gratitude will be for you, who take the time to read what I write. That is an honor for me and a sacred gift. I write from my heart and soul and you take the time to hear that, which can be rare in our world today. Thank you.

My final words to the Universe for this moment in time?

Thank you for it all. Thank you.

Listening to the Rain at 4 am

Lessons from the storms

I woke up at 4 am to the sound of the rain coming down. This has always been such a soothing sound for me. I love the rain. The earth needs it. We need it.

Speaking of storms, next week I will reach the age of 73. I am still amazed that I am this age. I don’t feel this age, whatever that means. Well, maybe some days I do.

An unexpected gift

I watched the live coverage of the Artemis II space capsule as it splashed down into the ocean this past week. A lot of us were watching. I was surprised when I burst into tears when it landed safely. What, I wondered, was this about? And why am I in tears at 4 am this morning?

I think that there has been a part of so many of us that has been hungry for positive news, like this collective experience of watching what humanity can achieve when working together. We became mesmerized watching these astronauts travel to and around the moon and back and come home safely…knowing that this is the beginning of more to come, that humanity marches forward, that progress continues in the midst of all the darkness that we have been experiencing lately, that goodness and hope will not be killed. They may be silenced for a bit, but not killed…claiming their space, saying I am still here. Do not despair.

Watching space travel was part of my childhood. I remember watching in wonder and amazement and listening to the hope for the future in those moments, the promise of things to come. I love seeing that again.

Hope is still alive

We have been, and are still, going through a dark time in this country and in the world. Evil has been prominent and bullies have been loud and active. It has been easy to slip into despair.

And yet, watching a space capsule splashing down into the ocean and astronauts climbing out to the cheers of those watching can remind us that we are more, that we are better, that we still have hope and love within. I have hope for future generations, in their quest to keep learning, keep pushing, keep doing what is needed to survive, grow, and thrive, to keep working together, to keep believing in the best of us. I once again could feel the love that I believe is at our essence, at least for most of us, except those that may be so wounded that there is no coming back for them. We must be careful not to allow these souls into positions of power.

I could hear the wonder spoken by the astronauts that were more than words can express. They had experienced something greater, something that gave them hope, gratitude, love, and left them in awe.

So, here I sat crying as I watched the landing, crying at the cheering, at the feeling together with humanity as we were watching, at the positive news on the screen, something that we have been missing for a while. My tears reminded me of how much we have been in constant trauma, and also reminded me that we are more, that we are better than the evil, that we do not give up, even if pushed down for a while, that the best of us is still here, and God willing, will prevail.

I am nearing the end of my road here on earth. There is much less time ahead than behind me. It’s such an interesting experience to try and really absorb the feeling of the reality of one’s own mortality, of the coming expiration date. It becomes much more real as I continue aging, as I continue watching the changes that I see in the mirror and feel in my body and its altered movements. This time of life can bring things into focus more quickly.

The astronauts and all the people who worked to make this happen give me hope. The world has been in shock at the constant trauma. I pray that we are working our way back from this toward reclaiming hope…hope with action to take back our humanity.

Stepping back to really see

I listen to what seems to be the universal experience of the reaction of those space travelers when they look back at our beautiful blue planet. This is what we need, to step back and look at the wonder of it all, to see the bigger story, to remember who we can be, to remember the love that is at our core, to reach out and hold each other’s hands yet again and to see how united we all really are, how separateness is an illusion used to control and gain power, but power that is fleeting and not based in reality.

Can we step back, those of us here still on this planet, and see the wonder of us? Can we remember how much we embody and contain within each sacred soul, how we still can feel amazement, awe, deep gratitude and connection? Can we remember how there is still so much kindness deep within us that we can see every day around us, how the news is but a tiny piece of what is happening, how the darkness tries to tell us that it is all that there is, that the light is gone. But the light, if we step back a bit, is still there.

Weathering personal storms

In stepping back to look at my own life, I have faults, regrets, and have made mistakes. I have tried and sometimes failed. And yet, I have kept trying. I have tried to give voice to kindness and compassion, learning that boundaries are necessary to protect those sacred qualities, and that they will not be destroyed. I have learned forgiveness of others (although I still need more work on that) and continue to work toward forgiveness of myself. That one is harder. How strange of me to think that I should somehow be different and not make the mistakes that we humans all can make.

Gratitude

I have learned to appreciate the storm at 4am and being alive and awake to hear it and feel its sacredness. I have learned to appreciate the lessons that darkness has to teach us, and there are many. If we do not have the courage to investigate and step into the dark, we will not learn its power and lessons and cannot learn to navigate it rather than drowning in it. We must honor the darkness within so that it doesn’t take over outside, so that it acknowledges that the light still exists within. We are both the storm and the clarity after the storm. We must learn to see and embrace both and work with it all rather than allow any one side to take over and claim its power.

We are humanity, both at its worst and its best. And we can move forward, sometimes in fear and sometimes with great awkwardness, but forward none-the-less. We are still here. We can travel with love and compassion, filling ourselves with kindness, awe, and hope, while firmly setting limits when necessary. Kindness is often portrayed as weakness, but it can contain much strength. May that kindness rise with all of its strength and save us all.

I am so very grateful for it all…the storm, the tears, the courage, hope, the connection that cannot be destroyed, and for this messy sacred life.

Embracing the Darkness

It’s all part of this human journey

I have been feeling the darkness that is part of life lately. It descends and drapes over me, feels familiar. I am learning to acknowledge and let it be.

I think that the temptation to run from darkness is strong within us, that it can frighten us with its depth and heaviness, that we can become afraid that we may never find our way out.

Aging seems to bring this on more frequently these days, at least for me. I am acutely aware of the swift passage of time, of mortality’s call approaching ever closer, of the ending of things. I feel the losses all around me. I have lost family, friends, those who held pieces of my past that no one else ever will. Former roles and self-definitions are gone. A sense of the coming future is gone, with the ever-growing reality of an expiration date.

What has been happening to our country and the world provokes even more grief within me. Loss of things that I somehow did not think could be lost finds me in despair and wandering around in circles in my own mind and spirit. There is new trauma added every day. I have no answers for any of this, just deep grief.

I wake up in the middle of the night with thoughts about all of this with the feelings washing over me. I have been working to breathe into this, to have faith that I will come through it yet again, reminding myself that I have come through it before. But sometimes I wonder if this time will be different.

I am very grateful for life and for still being here. Part of that gift for me is to try and experience all that is going on within me, to honor it all as part of this journey.

I see my body changing, new pains appearing, and I cope as best as I can. I am never sure what to try and ask my doctor about, and what is simply part of this path of aging, this path of mortality, this walk toward our inevitable death.

I see that patterns that I have struggled with in my life have never really left me. I embark on new adventures, try to learn new things, try to engage and participate in life as much as I can, try to honor that I am still here. And yet, issues that I thought that I had worked through are still within me. I am beginning to realize that these are in my core, that they have been with me for as long as I can remember, that they are hard-wired. I finally realize that for me, I will not suddenly become free from them (as part of me had fantasized that I would once I worked through it all). No, they are part of me. They have helped form who I am. They have been my internal voices of caution that took a harsh tone to try and stop any further pain.

But life has pain. That comes with the admission ticket. We all have it, our own version, our own story, our own battles, our own hero or heroine’s journey with its tasks and lessons.

Some of my own personal battles

I have never been confident, have easily given away my power to anyone I thought was somehow better than I was, who I thought knew more than me, had more rights than I did. I learned this attitude toward myself very early. I say that not to blame, but to understand how this has been built into my core.

I immediately can take blame for things. I can feel less than others around me. I can compare myself and be tempted to hide, thinking I may fail because I am not adequate in whatever cruel measurement I may be using at the time. It feels like being swallowed by a river of mud, pulling me down into the dark depths.

So, now I try and say to myself …let me learn about these depths, since they seem to be clamoring for my attention. I marvel at others who do not have the issues or fear that I bring with me to almost everything. I know that they have their own battles, as do we all. But I still marvel at their confidence, their assuredness, their apparent comfort with and belief in themselves.

Being exposed has felt dangerous for me in the past, and it is a hard fight to change the pattern of living from that history and fear.

And yet, as I approach what is closer to the end of my time on this earth, I wonder if I might be able to let go of responding automatically to the fears and harsh voices within, if I might add a voice of self-advocacy (even if it’s very shaky) to the chorus within, if I might really try to live more fully and expose more of who I am, if I might try to believe in myself, even if forced and feeling unnatural, if I might take that leap into whatever unknown that I am facing with a bit more belief that I can do this. Dare I believe that I have the right to try, that I am not less than, that I am ok, that I have a right to this precious life. Yes, I have made mistakes and have regrets, but that this doesn’t make me a total failure. Can I finally learn that forgiveness can also apply to myself?

Could this be one of the major lessons?

Maybe this is the ultimate lesson..to learn self acceptance, to realize that the journey is not to get rid of faults and issues, but to admit them, accept them and learn to work differently with them, to learn patience and kindness toward myself, to learn that I will be leaving with a lot of what I came in here with. Maybe I can accept that I will not have mastered it all. that this life has not been a test that I either pass or fail, but rather an experience to be learned from, to be lived, to be embraced in both its light and darkness. I can embrace my own light and darkness. I can learn to let go (more) of the regrets and should-haves and could-haves. Dare I allow myself to love who I am, faults and all. I can begin to see that coming full circle to who you have always been is ok, that you don’t have to figure it all out by the end. In fact, the end can bring more questions than ever. Perhaps we learn to be comfortable in the land of I-don’t-know, and realize that this not-knowing is part of the journey, part of the task, to learn to live with this all, but to live none-the-less, to claim our right to be here fully with all of our faults, lumps, and bumps.

It’s time to tell ourselves that we deserve to feel love, especially from and toward ourselves, so that we can let our final words be Thank you for the bittersweet beauty of it all. Thank you.

Talking Back to the Voices

The issues that I grew up with are always with me, but at least now I can question them

I have been feeling so anxious lately. I am volunteering at several places that involve training, remembering, learning, tests, anxiety. I am retired, so I have time to pay attention to what my passions are. I love writing, painting, being in nature and around animals. Writing and painting are activities that I can and do enjoy in solitude. Being around animals and working with them is a different story, as it involves lots of people contact and rules.

I am studying to try and become a docent at our local zoo. It is a lot to learn. Will I be able to remember, retain, learn enough to be of good enough service? I am also training to be a volunteer at a wildlife rescue hospital. They assure me that I will be able to retain all the info about the various different species and what cage set-ups they need, what their diets involve, so many details.

It’s interesting to notice how my old patterns stay with me still. I hesitate, doubt my ability to do things well enough, compare myself to others and generally have always felt that I was not good enough. As an elder, I can look back through the years to see how true this has been for me for most of my life. It has taken so much of my energy and stopped me at times from participating in or trying things.

And here I am again, hearing that inner voice, that lack of confidence, even as I try to volunteer with things that I am so very drawn to. It makes me sad to realize how much of my life has been taken up by these critical voices. I know that I internalized those voices to protect myself and to beat others to the punch…to criticize myself before anyone else could.

And yet, I have made it this far. I made it through college and graduate school. I have survived, supported myself, somehow have come this far. I must have some skills, I say to myself and to the relentless inner criticism and judgment. I have learned things in the past, so maybe I can still learn new things. I might be a bit slower, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t learn or do things.

It’s a gift to finally have that inner voice that talks back, to claim my right to take up space and try new things, to finally be my own advocate, to say stop to those voices, to say it’s ok, we can do this. I can do this.

The inner mean voices can get so easily triggered. I hear others being confident and I look at them with amazement. It is not something that I have been very familiar with. Their confidence somehow makes me withdraw a bit more, since I don’t feel that way.

Do I know where these voices came from? Yes, I can remember the criticism, the doubt in me that I felt growing up. This is not to blame anyone, as life is just each of us passing along what we know, trying our best, but passing along some not-so-great gifts at times.

And we, as children, can learn to internalize those voices and make them feel like our own true voice.

I am tired of having always felt somehow less than, shrinking myself out of shame and self-doubt, tired of quieting my voice as it didn’t feel as strong as the voices of others around me.

And yet, there is, and I am so grateful that this never left, a voice inside me that questions this. Why am I less? So maybe my voice is quieter, but no less valid. Maybe I can do things, and just haven’t believed in myself enough along the way. And that has cost me so very much.

What’s the point, the voices continue, as this later time in my life? I am an elder now and it’s too late and it doesn’t matter anymore.

I am still here, I counter. I am still alive, and I have the right to learn, to try things. to maybe fail and try again. I am tired of always putting others above me and shutting myself down. I am so very tired of that. Enough. ENOUGH.

And so, with fear coming along with me, I try. I will keep going, I will keep learning, I will keep talking back to those voices and tell them that their input is not going to be the loudest voice in the chorus anymore. I know that they have been trying to protect me, but the protection has become deadening and stifling and I don’t want to be dead before my time comes.

I have the right to try. I have the right to be awkward, to be a beginner, to be shy, to be afraid, and to be brave enough to try anyway. I have the right to not be ashamed to show myself and who I am. I have the right to be here. I have the right.

So, with anxiety, I put another foot forward. Because if not now, then when? Because there is enough time to be quiet once I am gone. I still have the gift and chance to keep learning things, and to keep working on believing in myself. I am still here. I am still alive.

Maybe as elders we can also continue to encourage each other along the way. We have light within us still, light to share, light to guide. As I continue to cheer myself on, I also want to cheer you on in whatever you may be drawn to do. We can do this, even if scared. We can hold each other’s hands along the way, and take that step.

Fun at the DMV

Opportunities for connection can be all around us

Photo by Hoi An and Da Nang Photographer on Unsplash

Now that I am past 70, I must go to the DMV in person to renew my license. From now on, I can renew it for only 5 years at a time rather than the 10 years that I have been used to. I suppose they want to make sure that you are not losing it, in case they need to take you off the road. I get it, but it is humbling.

I have never enjoyed the DMV, and that has not changed. Walking in, I was once again amazed at the crowd, the busy atmosphere, the constant mechanical voice letting us know which number was being served and at which window. I had made an appt and walked up to let them know that I was there. I was early, which is my preference for this type of thing. I was informed that I was too early and had to wait to register until just 10 minutes before my appt.

So, I took a seat to wait to check in, still glad that I had arrived early, found parking, and did not get caught in traffic. I try to focus on gratitude where and when I can these days.

I was called when it was my turn, answered their questions, and took the eye exam. I looked at the woman helping me and could feel her fatigue, even though it was still quite early in the day. I spoke to her, saying that she must want total quiet once she gets home from work, after dealing with the crowds and noise and general feel of the place. I told her that I understood, having been a social worker in my career, that I did not want to speak with a single soul upon arriving home from work and could see how she might feel that way as well. She stopped what she was doing, made real eye contact, said Oh yes, and that as soon as she gets home, she went directly to her couch to sit and do some mindless scrolling on her phone, not speaking to anyone for a while.

We finished and she sent me on my way to get my photo taken (or rather to stand in the long line of people waiting to get their photo taken).

Is it intentional, I wonder, to have our photos taken after we have already been through their process and most likely not feeling our most patient or kind, and certainly not looking our best….but here we were. I spoke to some of the women around me as we commiserated about our experience. It helped us to share and to smile together.

The woman behind me talked about how she needed to sit down, that she had some back and sciatica issues, how she had been prescribed pain meds at one point, had become addicted, had gone through Rehab for that. Isn’t it amazing how eager we can be to share our stories with someone who might listen?

I could tell that she was uncomfortable just standing there, trying to find something to lean against.I asked her to please go ahead of me so that she could get through at least a bit quicker. It’s not much, but it was a little something that I could offer.

Up I stepped to the counter. The young man there was processing people quickly as he could, taking photos, gathering signatures. I mentioned that he seemed to be doing remarkably well with his smile while working at such a pace and with so many people. He seemed to appreciate that, then took my photo. He asked if I was ready. (Well, I thought to myself, there’s not much that I can change about the way I look, so yes, I was ready.) He took the photo and we were done.

I drove home, glad to be done with that, amazed that I was home in about an hour and a half after my scheduled appointment time. Somehow I thought that I had been there much longer than that….much longer.

And yet, I was pleased to have connected with a few human beings sharing that moment in time, sharing that experience of being at the DMV, and stopping the madness for a few moments to breathe and to connect.

That, I think, is a gift that we can give to ourselves and to others. Wherever we are, we can take a moment to look around and see who is there, who may appreciate a smile and kind word, who may have a better day because of it. I helped myself that day to feel less like a number or a faceless being just being stamped through a process.

We are so easily lost these days in the crowds, the impersonal (if efficient) processes that we must go through. The least that I can do is to try and make it a bit more pleasant for myself and maybe another person. We are there, sharing a moment. Why not look at each other for that moment, say hello, and be present before we go our separate ways.

As I continue my aging journey, I ask myself isn’t that what life is…a brief few moments. Perhaps we can remember to stop, to see who may be beside us and who we may be able to relate with. Maybe we can create a memory that can bring a smile, however brief. A moment of eye contact can help us to step out of the hustle and back into humanity and back into our bodies…even at the DMV.

A Second Chance

Letting myself do what I wanted all along

Being an elder now and looking back, it can be easy for me to ruminate on regrets, dreams that I wished I could have followed up on, roads taken that were the best I could figure out at the time, but not really in tune with my soul.

I have felt regret, wished that I had known better, wish that I had been stronger and better able to handle all the doubts and dreams.

I had a career as a social worker. It was a decent career, and I hope that I provided some help and hope to others along the way.

But to be honest, my passions were along different lines. The choices were not apparent to me then, and I got into what I thought that I needed to do to survive, to go for a degree that I could put to good use, to get a job, make a living, save for my retirement, and try and make a good life as it had been defined for me.

I got married. I loved my husband. But, with the wisdom of hindsight, I now realize having been very sheltered as a child, I was in no way mature enough to even know what marriage or commitment to someone else was about. I was married for 12 years and am grateful for the experience and the connection. My ex-husband and I have a lovely, authentic connection these days, reaching out to leave messages on holidays and special anniversaries. He is remarried and I completely respect that and would never do anything to hurt or change that. But it has been healing for me to have some contact again after all these years. Love remains, even if it changes forms.

Remembering my passions

I have always loved to draw, to write, and have always loved animals.

I wasn’t allowed to really have pets much as a child and didn’t really know about careers where I could work with them, my intellect and background telling me I needed to be realistic and do a “real” job.

So, here I am retired. I am writing now and I am so grateful to have found my voice and a way to express it that feels like coming home. I paint and find such joy in letting that flow through me.

I have been volunteering at our local zoo for years. I was on the Behavior Observation Team with the elephants where I got to spend hours just watching, recording behavior, and being in the sacred presence of these animals as well as being around the wonderful young zookeepers who loved them and took such good care of them.

Our elephants are no longer with us, the last of them having been moved to an elephant sanctuary in Tennessee. It is a wonderful place for him, and I am happy for him, even though I miss him so very much. I want what is best for him, as we all did. Once he became our last elephant left, we knew we had to move him. Elephants, even males who are more solitary, need to be around other elephants. He is doing well and has begun making friends there. I will never be able to adequately describe what it has been like to stand in front of this sacred creature, with barriers in between us of course, simply being in each other’s presence.

Once our last elephant left, I decided to stay at the zoo and try to learn how to be a docent. This zoo does wonderful conservation and rescue work and also works very hard to help educate people about wildlife, teach them respect for these creatures that we share the earth with, and hopefully instill a new sense of connection and responsibility inside them.

I have a lot to learn, and hope that my brain can retain enough information. I love interacting with the guests, and of course, I love being around the animals. They bring me peace. They help me connect with my soul.

I also have wanted to volunteer at a local wildlife hospital, and finally got a call to come in for their volunteer training. The timing was not great, given that I am training for the docent position at the zoo, but I figured I would try. I didn’t want to lose the opportunity to become part of their caring organization. There is a lot to learn there as well. Here I go…let’s see how my brain holds up!

Sitting still at home the other day, I realized that I have given myself a second chance to go back and make different choices as to how to create my life. I have allowed myself permission to do the things that I pushed aside in my earlier years. There is a bittersweetness about this, as it comes later in life and my body cannot always do everything that my younger self would have been able to jump into, but I can still participate. I can still go and do what I want to do. I can still be part of it. I can give myself now what I wish I had the chance to get before.

We are still here.

I can write and let my soul finally speak in the way that she loves best…through written word. And I am grateful to have found one of my tribes in those who respond and resonate with what I may write.

I can paint and allow that part of me to express herself and give her room to play and simply be. Once I begin painting, it feels as if things flow through me and not from me. Writing can feel the same…a sense of connection to a depth in me that is greater than just me.

I can be around animals, teach about them and allow that part of me to finally come home as well.

If not now, when?

It is never too late to create the life that you want, even if it must be modified with the realities of aging. We can still do what we can. We can still say this is who I am.

I encourage you to ask yourself what did you love, who were you that you may have pushed down and aside? Are there things that perhaps still call to you? Dance? Music? Art? Is there a kind of work where you may be able to volunteer, even if it no longer can be your career? It can still be the space where you express yourself, where you give yourself permission to have the voice that you silenced so long ago.

I invite you to dream about that and maybe take a tiny step toward it.

Perhaps one day, you will be sitting there and realize that you finally gave yourself what you had asked for so long ago.

There is still time, even if it may take a different form. You are still alive, still here.

Holding A Single Candle

Alone, yet connected to so many

I walked to the end of my tiny street with my candle, tears beginning to flow.

I had been following the horror of another person killed by Border Patrol, Alex Pretti, only weeks after the killing of Renee Good by ICE.

I cannot absorb the pain at times. I cannot imagine what their families are going through. I feel such deep sorrow and outrage and, at times, bewilderment. How did we get here?

I watched the news in horror all day covering the death of Alex, as I had watched about Renee. A friend sent me a message that there was going to be a time that evening, 7 pm local time wherever you were, when people were invited to be outside, on corners, on their street, holding lighted candles in a ritual of remembrance.

So, I got my candle and walked down the hill of our tiny street. I did not see anyone else around, and thought that maybe others had organized themselves to be together in a more main location. Still, there I was with my candle and matches.

I took a deep breath and lit the candle, placing it on top of our row of mailboxes as I stood there. Cars drove by, some looked. It was a quiet evening. I thought about Alex, an ICU nurse. I’m retired now, but in my career as a social worker, I have worked with a lot of nurses and have such respect for all that they do and the care that they provide.

Here was an ICU nurse, shot down after trying to help someone else who had been shoved down. I watched the different versions of the videos that people had taken and saw what happened. Thank God for videos. I am enraged at the government trying to spin the story as they are, when we can see with our own eyes what happened. Of course there should be a full investigation by all, including the local authorities.

Standing there with my solitary candle, I could feel the connection to others who were doing the same, even if I could not see them right then. I felt my heart ache for this young man and his heart to protest and to help others. I could feel the still fresh pain from the killing of Renee Good. I could feel a part of all of us that are outraged and sometimes don’t even know where to put our anger. There was a video of a 70-year-old gentleman who was in agony and enraged at what he had seen, at what happened. I know that many of us understood and felt that inconsolable pain.

I see many of my peers, elders, at protests. We have seen much in our lives, have been involved in other protests perhaps, and are feeling the trauma that we are now in. We are out there, using our voices, holding up our signs, holding our candles.

After a little while, my neighbor, who had wondered who was hanging out by the mailboxes, came down to stand by me. We talked about what had happened, about our pain and outrage, about the loss, the death, the crumbling of our democracy. We hugged each other and honored the memory of Alex, as well as Renee.

I walked back up to my home after a bit. I felt as if it had been important to my soul for me to to be out there with my solitary candle, to take action, to bear witness to the pain, to express it so that others could see and also remember and feel it.

As an elder, sometimes it is easy for me to discount that my actions can make any difference. What can I do, as a 72 year old woman? What difference will it make? Who cares if I light my tiny candle alone?

It made a difference to my soul. It made a difference to my heart. And it motivated me to see what else I can be involved in, in addition to attending protests, writing post cards, contributing financially where I can.

I went to bed, sobered, deep in thought and feeling. Around midnight I woke up and felt compelled to open my back door and step outside. At that moment a strong breeze swept through me, which is unusual around my area, as the wind usually dies down at dusk. It stopped as soon as it came, but it felt as if it went right through me. I felt the spirit of all that is going on, felt the pain of those we have lost already in this crisis, of all those that we don’t hear about who have been “disappeared” (what an interesting term that has become common these days), of all the suffering being inflicted, the separations, the young children, the people just trying to make a life for their families, all of us Americans who they are trying to turn against each other.

I have written before about walking in the redwoods and sometimes hearing the rustling of the leaves and feeling as if I am hearing the whispering of the Voice of God. Maybe God was speaking again, through the wind, through the outrage of so many, through the compassion and love that we can still see and feel in the crowds that hold each other and sing and chant together, in the light of a tiny candle multiplied even if we do not see it at the moment. We are many, and we have more power than we know. We are all Americans and we cannot let them divide us against each other. We all want the best for our families and for our beloved country, a country that has stood for so much, imperfectly for sure, but at least had been trying to move in the direction of creating a better world for all.

Let’s use our voices, make our signs, call who we can, come together so that we can see how many of us there are, and light our candles to begin to burn away this hatred and evil.

Your Character Shines Through

Our essence shows itself if we pay attention

These are such challenging times in our country and in the world. I try to figure out the balance between staying informed so that I can participate, where and when I can, but also taking time away from all the news to re-center myself and find some balance. I look for stories that can help me through a bit.

So, let me tell you a little story, a story that happened this past week that is still echoing inside me.

My neighbor called me to tell me that a man had just been in her back yard, someone that she didn’t know. She said that he looked a bit disheveled, was carrying a bucket, and looked like he was picking things up. She went outside to check in with him. He talked about having been trying to pick up some things, having fallen, become lost and then climbed my neighbor’s fence to get back onto a road. She spoke with him for a while, found out his name and a bit about him, what his work had been earlier in his life. She could see that he was not harmful but perhaps confused. She directed him onto the road and then noticed that he had come to my front door for a few minutes before going on his way. She called me to ask me to check outside my door to see if everything was ok.

I looked outside and saw no one, so I assumed he had moved on. I stepped outside to look around and once again saw no one and then talked with my neighbor who had come out to talk with me. As I was walking back into my house, I noticed something.

I have been leaving a box of treats out this holiday season for the delivery folks to thank them for all their hard work. It has been such a pleasure for me to do this and to even be able to sometimes get a glimpse of them looking through the box for what might be their choice for a snack.

There, carefully placed on the top of the treats, were two one-dollar bills left in plain sight. Apparently our visitor had taken a few treats, which I was hoping that he would, but had also decided to leave some money for them. This touched me in so many ways. I know nothing about this man, but I know his character. He wanted to pay for what he took. He wanted to be fair and not take things just because they were there. (I would have been happy to have had him take some treats, of course). I don’t know this man, and yet I know a lot. I know what code he lives by. I know what some of his values are. And I know that he has integrity and honor, even with whatever it is that he may be going through right now.

That got me thinking. Who we are, deeply, shines through. Who we are in character stays and can be seen by those who take the time to look. How easy it may be to judge others by their appearance or by whatever circumstances that their lives may have taken them to in the moment, without knowing what lies beneath what we can see.

In my many years on this earth, I have learned (and am still learning) that there is more to see than what we may initially perceive. People have lived lives that we have no idea about and they may be battling demons that we cannot see, and yet, they still retain who they are at their deepest level. His character shone through. His integrity shone through. Who he is in essence did not change due to where he was in circumstance.

I felt as if I had received such a gift from this stranger. Here was a reminder to stop and look long enough to see who someone is at their essence, to not let fear dictate my vision, to not let different circumstances and appearance alter my ability to see the true essence and character of someone…whether it be to assume someone’s goodness because of how well they may dress, or how smoothly they may speak…or to assume danger based on differences that could be due to life events that may happen to us all.

We are all here, doing what we can, coping as we can. Everyone has a story. Maybe we can take the time to hear them, to see them, to connect, to realize that their voice may be quiet, but their character strong. Maybe we can even do this for ourselves, with our own story and struggles. (Those self-judgments can be so very critical.)

Stop, take time to see and hear. The world is harsh enough these days. Let’s be kind where we can. Let’s take time to see true character shine through.