I have been a fairly quiet person for most of my life (all my past significant others may beg to differ on this…..as one on one I can be quite verbal….and have a lot to say….!) I worked as a social worker in my career (have been retired now for almost two years). One of the comments that a psychologist gave me that I truly appreciated was that I work quietly in the background to do the best work that I can…..that I don’t call attention to myself or my work, but rather just attend to what needs to be attended to. Quietly.

So here I now am, and I find that I need to pay attention to all the ways that my voice has expressed itself. I had a dear friend recently walk into my home and say “This is you.” That got me thinking…a lot….

So I look around at my home, and I see that, if someone wants to know me, all they have to do is to look. I live in a home that resembles a cozy cabin, with lots of wood, and a “lived in” feel and look. My house is surrounded by trees, which I love. I have books spilling out everywhere. My art work (I have been painting more these days, now that I have more time) is there for others to see. My paintings all have pieces of me in them.

I have this blog. It’s interesting to me which of my friends follow this, and others that prefer other methods of getting to know me. No judgment, but an interest in noticing this. I pour my soul into this blog as well. And it is there for anyone who does me the honor of reading it. They will know me, and often in a way that others may not take the time to find out.

I dress very comfortably most of the time, especially now that I am retired. I make no major fashion statement, except to say that comfort is first and foremost the primary ingredient. I color my hair lighter these days, for fun (and so that the roots don’t show as much now that I am older…..and to help me feel brighter…) I struggle with weight, and the fluctuations in my weight are there for all to notice.

If someone pays attention, you can tell my mood for the day by how I walk, how I may or may not interact with those that I run into….how much eye contact I make, how much I reach out to pets passing by…..whether I smile at strangers or not……whether I venture out into the world or have a day of solitude within my home….We show ourselves in so many ways.

I get shy sometimes, and yet am pushing through this – both with this blog and with my paintings. I have had the honor of having several of my paintings accepted into a magazine. I am astonished that this is happening now, when I wondered what kind of life would be left now that I am no longer defined by my career. How lovely (and sometimes a bit anxiety provoking) to be noticed and appreciated. How different for me to put myself out there more…..how against the internal rules of not calling too much attention to myself….

Why not? Why not claim the right to express our voices everywhere? We really already have been expressing our voices out there, for those who take the time to notice. So, since we are already seen, why not embrace it more? I don’t need to yell and scream to be seen and heard, but I also don’t need to try and hide anymore. My voice is everywhere anyway. So is yours. So….let’s claim that voice, express who we are, and enjoy this journey….while we are still lucky enough to be here and be alive. We deserve to be here. We deserve to be heard. We deserve to be fully alive.

Have you ever had a moment when you lost all track of time and space and were totally in this moment, right now, right here?

I have had moments like this before…..sometimes while painting, sometimes while walking on a beautiful beach, or a quiet sacred forest, or gazing into the eyes of an animal…..

The other day, I gazed into the eyes of an infant….and it was the most sacred moment. This lovely baby is less than three months old, the new baby girl of my sweet young neighbors. I went to visit, and when this baby’s mom asked if I wanted to hold her, I quickly said YES! ( I wanted to be respectful of space and distance and safety, so I had not asked, but was thrilled when the chance to do this was offered).

I took this baby into my arms, and she looked into my eyes (there is an old soul there, definitely) and we held eye contact for what seemed like hours, although I know it was only minutes. And when I talked with her, she made sounds in response, her eyes never leaving mine for a moment. Locked – together – in the moment. Everything else faded away.

I have never had children. I was an only child, so I didn’t get to be around other children or babies much. And yet, and yet – I felt like this moment was familiar, comforting, loving….

To gaze into the eyes of a life just begun. To gaze into the eyes of the future and feel that spark of hope once again for time to come. To gaze into eyes that do not hide, do not pretend, do not shy away, do not retreat from full contact. I could not look away. ( Why would I want to?) I saw humanity, life continuing beyond my life, the life yet to be lived, and the moment that we were sharing right then and there…..It touches me still. It will be with me forever. This gaze the other day with this sweet little baby allowed me to open myself into my own heart more…..to feel life in its fullness…..to be totally present to life at that time.

Where have we lost this connection? How did we learn to look away, hide our souls, cloud our eyes over with protection and walls that guard and shield? What difference would it make if we could gaze once again into each other’s eyes (and hearts, souls) and really see each other? Really be present with each other in our trembling brief time on this earth? Really witness the spirit within each other that unites us…

I saw eternity in that sacred moment, in the eyes of that infant. I saw her, and myself, and mySelf……We are all such glimmers of light and love that can shine from our eyes. May we relearn this more and more…..May we see eternity in each others’ eyes….and maybe, for a moment, feel how we are really not alone at all…..

Have you noticed the interesting language that we use when it comes to aging? I have been listening more consciously lately, more intentionally, and I am somewhat befuddled at the language and how it directs us to do the impossible.

Have you ever seen an anti-adolescence ad? Have you seen an anti-young adulthood ad? How about an anti-middle age ad (well, maybe we start to get into it there…..)? And how there are age categories for the twenties, thirties, forties, fifties- and then you begin to see “50 and above?” A senior citizen can begin at either 62 or 65….and then the rest of the years become even more invisible as time goes on.

The skin commercials are intriguing. They talk about anti-aging, defying aging, reversing aging, fighting aging, combating aging. Now I don’t pretend to not be part of all of this, as I use skin creams, try my best to look as good as I can (with the internalized standards of youth that our society has defined as looking good). But really, is it necessary to often use models that have no need for skin creams in those ads? I mean, really, there is no skin cream that is going to make me look like I am 30 again….let’s be serious here…

But, really, the truth is….aging happens (if we are lucky enough to live that long). Aging is a normal part of life’s progression. Aging is what happens when we continue to live. Yet we are constantly told of how we should fight it, defy it, deny it, and by any means possible, hide it, and indeed even hate it.

What does that to our self esteem, our sense of worth, our vision of who we are and what we offer and bring to the world? How does that effect what I think and say to myself when I look in the mirror and see the inevitable signs of time passing? What does that do to me when I try to buy clothes, go to the gym, participate in life to the fullest extent possible when I am seen as fading into the sunset…..? What effect does that have on my sense of worth and value?

So this, instead, is what I am trying to fight and defy (some days more successfully than others). I want to defy the idea that I no longer am worth as much, that I may no longer have as much to offer now that I am retired (from my career, yes – from my life, no). I want to fight that voice within myself that has internalized all these negative messages about aging and thus about who I am now that I am older. I want to fight the part of me that goes along with the pressure to simply fade into the background until it is my time to die. I want to fight dying before I am dead. Rather than being anti-aging, how about anti-ageism?

Yes, aging brings changes and those are real and need to be dealt with. But we do not need to simply write off a whole group of people that still have vitality, passion, gifts to offer, wisdom to share, love to experience and life to live. Indeed, might it not even be possible to embrace lives well lived, wisdom gained, experiences to share? Don’t we have enough battles in life without adding more to the list of what we should fight? Especially fights that we cannot win?

I am aging. I cannot fight that or defy that or deny that (even though sometimes I may try…). But, I can fight being invisible, being quiet, allowing even my own self to not see everything that I am anymore. I can fight for my right to still be alive, because…I am still here, still breathing….still on this earth with things to say and gifts to share, to those that are open to seeing them. We are still here…..we are not dead yet!

Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow today – predicting 6 more weeks of winter….

What about when we see our own Shadow?

Carl Jung, the Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, talked about archetypes and our Shadow, our Dark Side….. defined as the parts of us that we may not want to admit having, the “darker” side….the side that we can project onto others or act upon unless we are aware of it and know how to work with it.

So, I saw my Shadow today as well. As a matter of fact, I have been seeing my Shadow for a while now. It’s not easy to look into the eyes of my Shadow – I have learned in the past to judge it, deny it, push it away. But the Shadow is there, and is, actually, I realize, an important part of me that I need to see, own, and even embrace – as it has things to tell me and things to teach me and things to warn me about.

My Shadow can be impulsive, jealous, afraid, enraged. My Shadow is all the parts of me that I had worked hard to push away or “rise above” in my past. Now, as I enter the later part of my life, I realize (and am still learning) that the Shadow is a vital part of me, a part that I need to acknowledge and understand and embrace – so that we can work together.

Just as the lotus flower needs the mud to grow and bloom from into the light, so we need our Shadow to learn from. We need the rich muddy soil to grow from, to learn from, to bloom from as we reach and strive for the light. We need both the dark and the light. Indeed, we are both dark and light, shadow and spirit, dark impulses and loving impulses. We contain it all – neither one nor the other, neither good nor bad, neither dark or light. We have it all. We are it all.

If we can see this and embrace this, we will be able to own it and work with it rather than acting out from it as we try to deny it and pretend it doesn’t exist in us, but rather only in others, who we then act out against rather than admitting the darkness within each of our own selves.

I am kind, loving, and work to do as much good in this world as I can. But I can also be jealous, possessive, insecure, irrationally (or so it seems) angry, mean-spirited, impulsive ….and more. And I can be abusive, especially to myself.

So this is what I see and this is what I can work with. Sometimes, I even notice, my Shadow rises up to protect me from perceived harm ….seeing it even before I may realize that it is there. It can offer insight, wisdom, understanding into why I may behave in certain ways, and why others may behave in certain ways. It can teach me to become more balanced and whole. It can teach me that accepting all of who I am (which does not mean that I have to act out from my Shadow) will help me better express all of me. It can help me unleash my creativity -which needs freedom from all the rigid and strict rules and regulations in order to be free and come out.

My Shadow is a part of me- and came into being for a purpose. I can deny her (and thus give her more power in that I am not then consciously working with her) or embrace her and learn to integrate all the parts of me into the complex being that I am. To embrace the rich mud and soil and all the nutrients therein so that I can grow and bloom and become all that I can be.

So, I saw my Shadow on this Groundhog Day, and I look forward to more Winter to explore in quiet solitude all that makes me who I am. And to connect with others on this path so that we can all see and hear each other – and maybe even let our Shadows speak with each other, be seen, heard, acknowledged, understood, and…perhaps even…. lovingly accepted.

I often wonder why people will ask me how I am, and then seem impatient if I actually try to answer them honestly. I now joke with friends that I am going to start, if this happens, responding with “If you don’t want to know how I am, then I suggest that you don’t ask me.” It has become a way of saying hello, I think, to ask ‘How are you doing?” But, what if…..if you can imagine for a moment….what if we asked that and then stopped whatever we were doing to really listen to the answer to that question. What might happen?

Here are some things that I think that might happen.

We may hear what another human being is struggling with in their day to day life….and we may not feel so alone with our own struggles. We may help another feel more heard and seen and form a connection that is deeper and more meaningful. We may learn, once again, that life is not easy – but that we can perhaps ease a bit of the pain that sometimes comes by being present and really hearing each other. We may be amazed at how someone opens up to us when we really mean to ask that question – how they have been hungry to share some of their experiences and feelings.

I don’t think that it has to be a long conversation, although there are times that this may happen. I believe that even a brief moment of connection can touch our spirit and soothe us….that a moment of genuine contact can make a more lasting impression than longer conversations of chit chat. {I don’t mean to invalidate chit chat, as I think that this has a place as well, but not as a steady diet.)

Maybe we feel that we have to try and come up with a solution or advice. I honestly think that people mostly just want to be heard, not necessarily to be given our advice. To listen to someone is to validate their experiences, their feelings, their present moment in time. To not give advice is actually to believe that people most often do have their own answers, but may not be there yet.

I can try and do my best to listen to you, to sit beside you, to be with you – even in quiet moments in between the words as you simply experience whatever it is that you are going through….and to try and let you know that I hear you. I am there beside you. I see you.

Isn’t that the greatest gift of all? I believe that deeply listening to someone is one of the greatest forms of love. It comes with time given, and with true attention. It is a quiet, yet incredibly powerful, form of love that is felt in the spaces between the words. It is saying to someone…..”I want to hear what you have to say. I want to hear what you are feeling. I want to feel your spirit and hold it tenderly in my hands and heart. I want to let you know that I am here and that I see and hear you. You deserve to be heard and seen. You and what you have to say are important to me. You are important to me.”

I feel this, dear readers, when some of you take the time to respond to my posts, and am deeply grateful for this…for all of you who do this. You make a difference in my life. And I thank you. And I am glad to offer the same to you.

So….how are you doing?

I visited the Dark Place again this weekend. I never know when another visit to this place will happen….it is unpredictable and sometimes sudden in its appearance. It has many faces.

The face this past weekend was the face of self-doubt, self-recrimination, dark thoughts and hopelessness….a place of grief and sadness and pain. It is a familiar place, and one that is never far away. It is a type of home, one that is not comfortable or cozy to go back to, but back to it I must go when the call comes.

The call this time came about relationship issues and loss. Relationships lost, hopes of relationships lost, friends lost, fur babies lost, youth lost, opportunities lost, a huge segment of my life gone already and a questioning of myself and wondering just what I have done with my life and what do I have to show for it….

The voices in this dark place are relentless and loud. Negative, critical, shaming, judgmental, catastrophizing, predicting a bleak future, however long of a future that I may have left at this point.

Looking in the mirror from the Dark Place is painful. The names and judgments and self disgust can be overwhelming.

And yet…..and yet….even in the midst of this version of a personal hell….I am aware of a quiet voice within. This voice waits until the most recent rant is over about whatever the fault of the moment is that the voices choose to focus on. It waits….and then, quietly, says….”You know that is not true.” The Dark is relentless, attacking, storming, engulfing….and yet…the small quiet voice is there, waiting patiently until the quiet interlude comes again. And again, this quiet voice of sanity and balance says…”You have made mistakes…yes, You are human. But you are not a mistake. And you do not deserve this attack on you.”

And on and on it goes….until the Dark becomes tired….Until the voices are fatigued. And the quiet voice is still there…..” You are ok. This shall pass. You are ok. You deserve to live and to love and to be loved. You deserve to be here…..”

That, I believe, is the Voice of God (Universe, Spirit, Higher Power, Presence, Higher Self, Soul) within. The part of us that knows we are doing the best that we can, with errors, and that we are human, and lovable. And forgivable. It reassures me that even during those times of visiting the Dark, that it is always still there…waiting….never leaving…..and that it will speak in its owntime.

I cannot feel that Essence as much when I’m in the battles of the Dark, but I am reassured, that even in those times, I am aware of this other part of me that I have worked on, have struggled to get to know, have delighted to find, have claimed and lost again temporarily, but found again.

We can remember, I think, that we have this other part that is always there, though quieter at times. That quiet voice is more powerful than the rest, as it prevails and never leaves…accepts that there are dark times, but does not accept that this is all that I am.

I hope to remember that about others as well, when they are struggling with their own version of the Dark Place. And I want to remember that about myself. And I invite you to remember that part of yourSelf….that has never abandoned you (even if it has been quiet for long periods of time). And, to, as we continue on this journey of aging and life, to honor that part of us, that quiet voice – to know that there is all the power that we need right there…and it will wait patiently…until we come home to it….until we come home to ourSelves.

Have you ever read the articles, with photos attached of course, about various movie stars with the line “Time has not been kind to …….”? What does that even mean? Are we supposed to look at these human beings who we have put in impossible positions of having to keep up a certain look or physique or standard and now see them with horror, disgust, and disdain for how they have changed over time?

If they don’t have plastic surgery, there are remarks about time having been cruel to them. If they get plastic surgery, there are also plenty of comments about how that is not working out so well, either. It’s a no win situation.

And,, although I am pleased to see the revolution of some older women now being seen as models and the articles talking about their beauty, I am also aware that these women that I see also often fit the societal standard of what is beautiful I do not mean to take away from their beauty and am glad to see different and older ages now being shown – but I am also aware that most of us are not what they are, in terms of beauty (as it is defined in our culture)….so we have yet more images to compare ourselves to and come up short against in comparison.

We all age, if we are lucky enough to live that long. And aging brings lines, and for many of us, extra pounds….it brings skin that doesn’t bounce back like it once did. This is the reality.

I wonder, though, is there a way we can begin to see this and ourselves with kindness and love and appreciation and even admiration for the strength of the survivors that we are? Must we be told to be horrified that “time has not been kind”? Can we ever learn to see those lines and less than perfect bodies as signs of lives well and fully lived?

And what , I wonder, do all these messages about how we are to react to aging do to us when we look at our own evidence of time passing as we gaze in the mirror? Are we to judge ourselves harshly for not looking as we once did? Are we to then quietly sink into invisibility and the background so as not to offend others or be found as less than? Are we to love ourselves less?

Some of the messages about aging are blatant and I am glad to see that we are naming them more and beginning to refuse these deathly labels. Yet I am also aware of how insidious and buried and unconscious many of them may still be….and how we have learned to not even see them, to accept them as truth and to learn to see with the eyes that judge, ridicule and condemn. And, do we do that to ourselves when we look at our own image?

Is looking at aging in the face (literally) too frightening an acceptance of our mortality and slow walk toward our own death? But, if this is true, must we die before we actually die? Can we not live more fully, loving ourselves each step of the way, and learn to embrace who we become and what the becoming looks like on the outside?

These are not questions that can be easily answered. But, maybe, we can continue to ask more of the questions, become more aware of the messages on how we should see ourselves, and begin to perhaps say “no……I will not minimize myself, will not sink into the invisible background, will not see myself as less than or someone that needs to be cast aside.” We have earned the right to fully live, to see ourselves fully – including all the feelings and passions that older people are sometimes seen as no longer having.

It is not time that has been unkind. It is all the judgments that we make about it.

We are still alive. Let us not die before our time.

Years ago, I think I scared the living daylights out of a shoe salesman. As I began describing what I was looking for, he stopped what he was doing, looked up at me, made eye contact, and said “Go ahead. I’m listening.” I was stopped dead in my tracks. I smiled, and said (sometimes my filters don’t work so well…..) “I am not trying to come on to you. But let me tell you, when you say that to a woman, you’ve got her!”

I thought it was funny at the time, but indeed, it was true. How rarely we are really deeply listened to.

I had another experience just the other day. I went to my Ob/Gyn …I will spare you, kind readers, of too many details except to mention that estrogen rings are not always easily removed, depending on one’s anatomy….enough said about that. So, here was this young male doctor, and he was so attentive to what I was saying. He listened, validated my experience, and was kind in his responses and treatments, telling me all along the way what he was doing to help the situation…..which he was, thankfully, able to quickly take care of. He listened to my problem, asked questions to clarify, did what was needed, validated that this was indeed an issue and that we needed to change to a different method of treatment, and asked, at the end, if there were any other questions or issues that I needed to ask about. I felt, in those few minutes, completely heard and taken care of. How little it can take to do that….not to minimize what he did, but to acknowledge that it really did not take much time to help me feel heard, listened to, and also given permission to ask any questions that I might have. I hope that this lovely young doctor does not ever lose this quality as time goes by and pressure to produce and proceed more quickly increase.

This is what we need. To be seen, to be heard, to be validated as the human beings that we are. I did not feel, in that appointment, treated as any less significant because of my age, because of my gender, because of anything. I was simply heard and paid attention to. I felt the glow of appreciation of that the rest of the day, and still do…

Can there be classes in medical school about this? Indeed, why aren’t there classes in school in general about this and how to treat each other? How to really hear and see each other? How to proceed in our interactions as if we are not enemies, or numbers, or annoyances to be dealt with? Why aren’t there movies about this great super power (of kind attention and presence ) that can, in my opinion, move mountains and melt hardness and fear? (I do think of one movie that showed this – the one about Mr. Rogers……a true hero in my eyes….)

And as elders, we have much that we can share….that we can teach…..that we can touch….in others. It would be a shame to not dive into that while we still can. To share this human experience, to talk about all the incredible feelings along the way, to help each other perhaps feel a bit less alone for a few moments.

Go ahead…..I am listening……

There is nothing quite like waking up in the wee hours of the morning, looking in the mirror, and facing yourself. No distractions (unless I am quick to try and provide some), no noise, no pressure yet to attend to the relentless errand list….just me…..looking at the reflection of my face….and quietly staring into my eyes.

I look older, of course. But, I wonder, how did that seem to happen so quickly? I feel a bit stiff when I wake up…..I notice that I don’t jump quickly out of bed these days, but take a few moments to get the joints and body moving…. I look into those eyes and still wonder….Who Am I, really?

I had a career as a social worker, and am now retired. So that was a way that I tried to define who I was – but no longer…

I love to write and paint and take joy in having more time to do both these days….but does that define who I am? It doesn’t quite fit – I is what I do, but who am I?

I didn’t have children, so I am not a mother. I am divorced for many years now, so I am not a wife. I am not currently in a relationship with someone special, so I am not a partner. I don’t have family around, so I am not part of that group…..what does that leave?

I am an aging woman. Does that define me? Only partly.

I am a friend to some……is that part of a definition of me?

When we strip away all the roles and definitions and structure that society gives us (and some of those can be helpful, if not taken as the whole answer to the question of who we are), then what is left?

I am a part of this Universe, of nature, of the earth – what else?

I am a woman who tries to be kind and helpful as best as I can….sometimes more successfully than others. I am a flawed human being (I guess that those two words go hand in hand….flawed and human…). I am an expression of a greater Being/Universe….a tiny pinpoint of light (on my better days)….I am quietly here, quietly breathing, quietly living, quietly questioning this life as I move ever steadily toward whenever the end of it will be….

What is my purpose? What have I accomplished? What matters, if anything?

I go and visit my parents at the mausoleum and wonder as I look around at all the “residents” there….Who were you? Will anyone wonder who I was when I am among you? Does it even matter? What matters? Do I matter? Have I ever mattered?

These wee hours of the morning can be a tricky time….questions with no answers…..thoughts with no direction…..feelings with no place to land….

And so today….I will write a bit….I will paint a bit….I will walk on the earth a bit and feel my connection to it…..I will make eye contact with another human being and feel my connection to them….I will breathe, I will think. I will feel. I will be. I will live while I am still among the living. I will keep asking questions. And I will keep on going until it is time for me to stop. And I will try to be kind, including to myself…..as I wander on this road of life with my fellow beings and creatures….And I will love. And maybe…..that will be enough……? Maybe that will express what I am and can be? To connect, to love, to express that, to share, to hold hands in our fear and questions….to be the human beings that we are? To see how we are not all that different from each other as we each walk our path. To maybe see how false these divisions are that we create among us…..that we have much more that unites us than divides us, if we open to it. Maybe that can be one of the lessons of this very special sacred time……these quiet wee hours of the morning……

Hello New Year,

Here I am, again. Grateful to be alive to see you. Struggling with the internal nagging thought of resolutions. But, here is the truth of it….

I will make no resolutions, for I set myself up for failure that way – and that is no way to approach you, this new year.

I will realize and accept that I come to this new year with everything that I carried (and maybe a few more pounds….) last year. There it is and there I am. Human, flawed, struggling, but still here. I still have the grief that I have been processing and feeling from all the losses as of late that also remind me of all the losses in my life. I still have the sadness. I still have the hopes and wishes and dreams. I still paint and I still write, although not as much writing as I would like to do. I still feel the loneliness that comes with living alone and aging, and yet I still also crave the solitude and quietness that allows me to listen to my soul.

I still procrastinate, still have not seriously begun de-cluttering, and still have a list of chores that I resist daily.

I am still afraid at times, in grief and sadness at times, joyful at times, and grateful always….for all of it (although some of it may be more pleasant to feel and experience, certainly).

I still acutely feel the pain of the earth….its creatures and plants and air that we have hurt so deeply.

I still feel the pain of this pandemic and all the suffering and fear and shock at what our world experience has become. I still feel the sadness and disgust at the politics and how we have moved away from basic human compassion and kindness with so much of the insane politicization of things that have nothing to do with politics.

And I also still see human kindness and compassion and striving to do better, to be better, to care for each other and for our planet. I see babies being born and they give me hope, although I worry about their future and the legacy that we are leaving them. And I still pray …. a lot.

And so here I am. No resolutions. Simply the desire and will to keep on going on, to keep living while this body is still capable of it. Still wanting to express myself to others with my words, with my paintings – to share what is inside me to anyone who may relate and thus perhaps feel a bit less alone. I am still among the living. I am still breathing. Still loving, which, after all, is the point of it all….Welcome, New Year. Let’s do this.