Trying to Stop My World from Shrinking

I find that I must push myself to do things that were easier before.

I took myself on a short road trip. It’s about a 3-hour drive. 

It’s a drive that I used to do often when I was younger. I travel to a place in northern California called Sea Ranch.

I stop along the way, usually at Bodega Bay, to say hello to the sea lions that often hang out there. This was a special day, as you can see in the photo above, when one of them came onto the ramp below where I was and checked me out, as I was checking him out. An intense connection that was sheer delight. What a way to start my trip! 

Onward to Sea Ranch

Sea Ranch is a stretch of coastline with houses and cabins you can rent. There are miles of trail by the ocean and in the trees where you can walk for hours. There is a small town that you can drive to if you need to pick up any supplies, or if you need a bit of human contact at the local coffee shop or in any of the small local stores there.

Otherwise, it is a place to have solitude in the beauty of nature. 

The drive is beautiful as well, ending up on Highway 1 which curves beside and above the ocean. The views are stunning and awe-inspiring. 

Age brings new feelings to experiences

In my younger days, I would feel nothing but anticipation and excitement about these trips.

These days, I noticed that there were other feelings mixed in with those feelings of excitement and anticipation. I felt some anxiety and fear. I hadn’t gone anywhere since the pandemic, so it had been a while. And I hadn’t driven on that curvy highway since then.

Off I went for my three-day road trip. I was anxious about the drive, anxious about finding the house (it’s a different rental company that I found to work with this time), anxious about the directions on how to get to the rental company to pick up the packet with instructions, anxious about getting to the house, and even anxious about being able to open the lockbox to the house. 

I notice that simple things feel more complicated now, for some reason. My confidence is not as high, and I do not have that ease and self-assurance that I used to have. I can feel the effects of aging and the larger space that fear occupies in my head. When did that happen? 

So, I was pushing myself to do this. Pushing to show myself that I can still do things like this. Proving to myself that I am ok and still have the skill set to do this, that I will be fine and that I will enjoy this, that I am not ready to have my world shrink that much quite yet. 

I have always loved going there alone. There have been a few times that I have shared a home there with someone else (a romantic partner or a friend), and those times reminded me why I have always preferred being up there alone. It’s easier to listen to the voice inside me that is sometimes harder to hear in the day-to-day routines of life or when anyone else is around.

I noticed that I felt some fear about that aloneness as well. What?? I don’t remember feeling that before. I live alone and enjoy that. I have always enjoyed going away by myself. It was strange to feel some anxiety about being alone. 

Determined, off I went on my adventure. I took my fear with me and decided that we would talk along the way. I thought that I could treat that fear with compassion but also let it know that everything was going to be ok. I took a journal, and a bit of art supplies should I feel inspired. I wanted to create a space during this trip to allow all the feelings to come up… a cleansing, if you will. 

Sacred Spaces

There is a beautiful, tiny, non-denominational chapel up in Sea Ranch that is stunning with gorgeous stained-glass windows, beautifully designed. It is a work of art sitting there for all to visit. It offers a quiet place to sit, pray, think, feel, and simply be. Sometimes I have felt like there are spirits of ancient ancestors within that sacred space that will speak to you when you are quietly sitting there. They calm and reassure you somehow. 

Friends, Human and Other

There are beaches where you can see the harbor seals and sometimes their pups. This was pupping season and I was delighted to be able to see the mothers and their pups lying next to each other on the beaches. These special beaches were protected from human visitors by docents stationed there on the cliffs above making sure that no one climbed down to try and be closer to the seals. People can scare the mother seals and they might then abandon their pups. Guests simply stand on the cliffs in awe and delight. 

The more I drove, the more relaxed I became and remembered that this part of me is still there, still ok, and can do what I love to do. I was grateful to be doing this and realized that I want to do what I am able to for as long as I can, making more memories while I still have the chance. 

Meeting members of my new tribe of elders

During this trip, I met several elders who have moved to this serene place for tranquility and peace. This is where they want to spend whatever time that they have left. It’s a slower pace, a way to relish more of what is around. 

I spoke with an artist who worked at the local gallery. She was working on her painting while tending to the gallery. She had moved there 9 years ago and said that her only regret was not moving up there sooner. 

There was an elder who volunteered as a seal docent who talked about how she loved being able to share knowledge about the seals with visitors. As we spent some time together, she talked about aging, about realizing that her body was slowly breaking down. She was honest and real about it all, stating that she was not happy about this breaking down process, but it was reality. She went on to say that this only made her more determined to appreciate each moment. We agreed about how much gratitude is one of the sacred gifts of aging. It can be a bittersweet gift at times, but a gift, nonetheless.

I came back from this trip refreshed and reminded of who I have been and still am, of what inspires me, calms me, and nourishes me. And of what is inside me still. 

 Let us live and do what we can, even if modified, live as fully as we are able while we are still here, and try not to let our world shrink too quickly. There is so much yet to see, hear, touch, feel, and experience. Yes, we are elders, and we are still alive, still here.