Finding Balance

From hikes in the redwoods to protests in the city

I celebrated my 72nd birthday last week. What a time that we are in these days, and my birthday felt different in the midst of it all.

I am grateful to have reached this birthday and to still be here. And I am in turmoil with everything that is going on in our country, the world, and the earth.

I continue to struggle with how to hold onto some semblance of balance.

I want to keep informed, but as has been said before, it’s a fine line between staying informed and maintaining one’s sanity. I keep working on how to walk that line.

So, on my birthday, I signed up for one of my volunteer shifts at the zoo. Being around animals helps soothe and center me. I am training in a new area as a behavior observation volunteer. I did this task for 11 years with the elephants when we had them at the zoo. Now I am learning about a variety of other species that I will be observing during a shift. Pretty much everything moves faster than an elephant, so that is a challenge. And there are a whole lot more animals in this new area, so that’s another change, as are the number of guests, given the huge playground that is also there in front of one of the exhibits.

I will keep learning and training and see if this new area is a good fit. In the meantime, I am falling in love with all of the animals up there and making connections, as well as interacting with the guests and offering what information I have at this early point. I spend time getting to watch eagles, condors, wolves, jaguars, brown bears, black bears, mountain lions, and bison. They are all so special in their own unique ways. It is such a gift to spend time with them all.

Our zoo does a lot of conservation work, education, and does its best for the animals we have, most of them rescues. We even are helping to repopulate the bison tribe for the Blackfeet Nation in Montana. When we have bison calves, and when they are ready and able, we transport them from California to Montana, with ceremonies and prayers held along the way.

It was a good birthday morning. I came home and was quiet for most of the rest of the day, happy to receive birthday messages from friends. A friend had taken me out for a wonderful birthday dinner the evening before, as the restaurant that I wanted to go to was closed on my birthday. It was a day filled with much love and gratitude. I also tried to limit the amount of news that I watched that day, which helped.

The next day, earth day, (at this age, I celebrate my birthday week, and even birthday month! Why not?) I took myself to the redwoods for a long walk. That is my cathedral, where I most feel the Sacred Presence of God/the Universe/all the names we use for that which is greater than us. The trees are sacred to me. I feel their essence when I touch them. Yes, I am a certified tree-hugger and proud of it! They don’t hug and tell, either, as they are discreet and I know that my secrets are safe with them. I feel safe being with them, which is not how I feel in the world these days.

The following Saturday, my neighbor and I attended a protest (against what is currently happening in our government) that was held downtown. We took our signs and yelled, clapped, and shared that time with others who were like-minded. It warmed my heart to see all ages represented there, from all walks of life. It felt right to be among the crowd, to use our voices, to stand up for what we believe in and what we have fought so hard for in this country. I have marched in demonstrations before, being 72, for various causes. I have been in marches for peace, for the women’s movement, against the slaughter of elephants for their tusks, and other causes. I treasure my freedom to do that, and I don’t want future generations to lose that, to lose our beloved freedom of speech.

Looking back, I am struck by all that the week contained, from the animal connections, the peace of the redwoods, the celebration of this beautiful earth and wanting to heal the damage that we have done, to the anger and pain of the protest. This is a metaphor for life, I think. It contains joy and pain. It’s important to remember to take moments of peace, as well as to use our voices. It is all part of the journey, Balance means including it all, but not getting too lost in any one part of it, so that we maintain our sanity and wholeness, so that we can keep carrying on, so that we can try to save what we can for those to come, so that we can try and take care of things that we can while we are here.

I love being alive, with all of its gifts, including the painful ones. If we are truly alive, we feel it all. We celebrate, we mourn, we love, we fight, we live. I am grateful for what I have, for all that we still have, and for the energy and love that I still see around me that I pray will overcome the hatred and division in the end.

I have hope, and will continue to hang onto that, even if I don’t live long enough to see things turn around. I must believe in the power of love, and that keeps me going. I will keep celebrating being alive, celebrating human kindness, compassion, strength, resilience, and hope.

I will keep working on finding balance each day, even if with wobbly steps. And I will remember to reach out and hold onto others’ hands as we walk together.

We Are Still Here

Letting who we are be heard and seen, while there is still time.

These are troubling times on this earth. I have had difficulty writing for a while, or painting, or doing much of anything except trying to exist from one day to the next. The country that I grew up in is in deep danger. The world is changing. The earth is hurting. I hurt.

I don’t understand how all of this happened. We lost our way somehow, and I fear it will take a long time to find our way back, if we can. I don’t know if I will live to see that, now that I am in the land of the elders.

I have felt lost, defeated, and powerless. And that is what works, I know, to keep my voice silent and my spirit dampened. So, let me begin to at least create space again for my voice with these written words. Let me begin to use this voice to speak to aging and what we are told about that. Let me begin to use this voice to resist those that would create chaos to take over our country and all that it has stood for.

I am not dead yet, I can say to the ever-present reality of mortality, one of the gifts (bittersweet) of aging. I still have time left to be alive and to cherish each moment. None of us know how much time that we are graced to have, but as we grow older, we know that the time allotted grows short. And we are still here.

Our country is not dead yet, not taken over completely yet. We still have parts of our democracy here that can reawaken and remember who they have been and what they stand for. There are many of us who are dismayed at what is happening. We have been shocked into being frozen, but we are thawing out from the fire within, this fire that is such a part of being an American.

There are protests, petitions, voices once again rebelling against tyranny and dictatorship. Voices that begin to loudly state NO. Enough. This is not who we are. This is not what we have fought for all these years as our guiding intention and purpose. We are better than this and we can do better.

No, we have not done things perfectly, by any means. Did our government need some restructuring and cleaning up? Most definitely. Did it need to be destroyed. Most definitely not.

We have stood for human rights, imperfectly, which is why we need to keep records of our history alive and present. That way we can learn from the past and not repeat it.

We have been a beacon of hope for so many, and have been a source of light and hope, not one of danger. We have been a source of welcome and refuge, not a country where its citizens now need to worry about finding safe spaces. We have been proud of our free speech, where now we are being censored and punished for daring to disagree or criticize those in power, although it seems that the standard does not apply to them. They name-call, criticize, and belittle others frequently, as well as blame everyone else for anything that goes wrong, to distract from being seen for what they in fact are doing, destroying, trying to take over and claim.

This is how power gets taken away from us…by overwhelming us, by creating cults, by distracting us with never ending assaults to our democracy and its structures, by yelling so loudly at us that we cannot hear our own voices.

Our voices are still here. We still have power, or they would not need to move as quickly or as loudly as they are doing in order to try and overtake us. We are still here.

I can say that I am still here as an elder, too, to the voices in my head, as well as those in society who would discount me as no longer being relevant or serving any purpose. I will take up the space that is mine and I will use my voice and speak my heart. I will not go quietly or disappear in order to make someone more comfortable. I will help remind others that they will be here, in the land of elderhood, much sooner than they think, and that there are things to learn and to value from me and from their own path to aging. I can say to them You do not need to be afraid of me. I can help and offer some wisdom, comfort, and guidance, if you wish. Have I done things perfectly? Far from it. Do I still have things to offer? Absolutely.

I can also say I am still here as a woman, that I am equal and have the same rights as men, and am more than my ability to have babies. I love and honor mothers, and I also know that women are more than that. We are human beings that can not only mother, but can teach the world about how to care, how to love, how to work together, how to cherish each other, how to protect the next generation and those yet to come, how to mother the earth and all of her creatures. And we are more than capable of making decisions about our own bodies. Period.

I can say I am still here as an American. I am the American who loves the inscription on the Statue of Liberty and all that she stands for, the American who tries to be compassionate while being fair, and tries to navigate the world with light, versus darkness and threats. I am the American who loves her neighbors and realizes the importance of connection, allies, kindness, and trust, the American who wants to believe that this is who we still are and that this is what we can get back to and keep improving and working on. I won’t give up on this vision and this hope. We fought too long and too hard to get here.

Let us not die before our time. Let us live and use our voices, our hearts, and our strength. Together we are strong. Together we can do this. All races, genders, creeds, ethnicities, ages, beliefs…we are all human and we can come together to be more powerful than any hatred or conflict.

We must, while there is still time.

Owning the Time Left

I find myself thinking it’s too late for many things, but is it?

As a member of the elder tribe, I find that I can easily slip into a sense of things being over, of it being too late for anything major, of even wondering what purpose I may serve or is this the do the best you can until you die time.

To give a bit of background, I came from a family where my parents began talking about being too old for many things while they were still in their 40’s. So, yes, this was not a great message to start with.

Our society doesn’t help that message either. We glorify youth, the future, making plans, working toward goals, and all that the earlier parts of our lives can offer, if we have the opportunities and means. These are all wonderful parts of life, but is that all that there is?

It seems that, once we reach a certain age, it is easier to believe in and wear the cloak of invisibility that is thrust upon us, to believe that we are on the sidelines, now that we have supposedly ended the productive, useful, vibrant part of our lives. We are portrayed as cute, infirm, nonsexual, forgetful, doddering, to be smiled at with an attitude that implies that we are somehow less than.

This is interesting, given that we have already lived full lives, and now suddenly we are to get off the carousel, sit on the sidelines, and smile lovingly from a distance and from the land of observer versus participant. Why?

And even more distressing to me, what I discover these days is the internal judge and commander within me who buys into this attitude and reminds me of it constantly. Sit home, don’t do that, don’t try that, you can’t do that, your time has passed and you lost the chance, you are too old, this is beyond you….you get the gist. You can probably add your own versions of these messages.

I am not discounting the changes that come with aging. Changes in my body, in my flexibility, in my strength, in my memory, sharpness of mind, or speed of thought… I see and feel them all. And I must adjust to these changes as needed.

Are these reasons to stop living as fully as I might?

One thing that I think that I need to do is to look within and see if my negative internal messages might be justifications, excuses so that I don’t have to face my fears of failing, looking foolish, or being judged and laughed at. I talk about not caring nearly as much about what others think anymore, and to an extent, this is true and one of the gifts of aging. But, if I look more deeply within and watch my own actions, I have to wonder if there is still part of me that bends to the ever present internal judge, the rules (both internal and external) , the admonitions, the commandments for how to be old.

I think that these days I feel this even more sharply, given the catastrophic changes that are happening in our country and in the world. I can easily feel that sense of defeat, hopelessness, powerlessness, with not enough time or energy within me left to fight. With enough messages and actions thrown at us every day, we can become disoriented, lose focus, feel as if we are powerless and that there is nothing left to do. And if we are older, we can feel that way even more intensely with thoughts that we may not even live long enough to see things turn around.

It’s time to challenge the dictators (inside and out), to look at the messages and challenges in a different way, to remember who we have been, what our strengths are, and to once again use them to participate fully however we can in our lives.

With our country and the world, we can decide to join where we may be useful, contribute in ways that we can, encourage hope, light, and kindness as well as to protest when we see evil, discrimination, hatred and division. We can look more at where the messages are being sent from instead of pointing fingers at each other, distracted and divided. We can still be active members of this country, of the America that I still believe in, the one that I grew up in, the one that my parents fought hard to come to and came to deeply love and appreciate and taught me to do the same.

And with my journey of aging, perhaps I can realize that there is more inside me than the internalized rules and admonitions about aging. I still have the hopes and delights of the young girl, the dreams and passions of youth, the laughter and love for life. These things don’t get old, they just get pushed into being quieter. Perhaps I don’t have to be so quiet and can live out loud as an elder. Perhaps we can age proudly and loudly.

We can claim our right to still be here, to still participate fully, to enjoy life and each other, to encourage the next generations and be examples of how to keep living, keep fighting, keep hoping, keep loving and keep being present until the very end.

It’s not over yet, not by a long shot.

Writing from the Storm

Chaos all around me. I need to write again.

I can’t find my center these days. The crisis and turmoil of our country and the world stir endlessly inside me. I try and take breaks, like from the news, but it is still happening and I am still reacting, as are so many of us.

What happened? How did we get here? And how did we become so divided? When did being mean and cruel, condescending to other world leaders, contentious and provocative to our neighbors, hateful toward any who do not agree, censoring and banning words, books, and any opposition…when did these things become acceptable? When did we throw out the Constitution and rule of law. When did this country decide to move toward becoming a monarchy and no longer a democracy.

I haven’t been able to focus, to write, to paint, to do much of anything except the very basics. I feel lost and off balance. I know that I am not alone, and talking with others who are of like mind helps for a bit. But the chaos continues to come.

So, one question becomes, how do we figure out the best way to take care of ourselves?

Watching too much news is not good, I know. As someone said, it’s a fine line between keeping informed and maintaining our mental health.

I contribute to causes and fights. I will figure out where and how I can best devote time and energy.

But I must keep also fighting for the survival of myself. The self who writes, the self who paints, the self who goes for walks in the redwoods, the self who remembers to laugh and most importantly, to take deep long breaths.

I am older, and I have seen many things come and go, have survived things, have seen major shifts and changes. I know that things keep changing. But sometimes it’s hard to stay balanced when the pendulum has swung to such an extreme.

I still believe in the power of kindness and love. So, I can, as an act of rebellion (but mostly because it is who I want to be) continue to be kind wherever and whenever I can, given that I am human and not always successful. But, most of the time, I think that I am kind. And there are also times when boundaries need to be set, when anger lets us know that something is wrong and needs paying attention to.

All this stress and division can make us ill. I can feel the cortisol flowing through my body, and that’s not good. It causes inflammation. I am inflamed in many ways, I think. Can I turn that fire around and aim it where needed? Can it become a fire of truth, conviction, values, and belief in love? Can it join with others to flame the feeling of That’s enough. No more. We are better than this. We can do better. We cannot quietly accept what we see happening around us that has left so many of us lost, confused and not knowing which way to turn.

So today I am writing, and grateful. I am not going to worry about how much to edit. I just need to write and send it out, to let the voice inside me know that I still hear her and will let her out into the world, at a time when we are being threatened for speaking our truth, when institutions are being threatened when they don’t follow the new rules, when free speech itself is being strangled.

And I will pull out a canvas and start a sketch, to allow that side of me to express itself as well, no matter what may show itself on the canvas. That needs to be ok.

We must not allow our inner voices, feelings, sadness, frustration, and anger be quieted. We cannot allow the shock and confusion and utter disbelief to stop the life within us and the life between us. We are not enemies. We are humans trying to sort through this life, and we need to come together, have discussions, stop calling each other names. I can try to understand your point of view, why you have done things that you have done, and I ask the same from you. Our system was not perfect, by any means, but it was not broken to the point of having to be completely destroyed, I think.

Can we come back together? Can we salvage this. Can we stop any further damage. Can we heal. I don’t know the answers. So, for today, I will write, I will start a sketch, I will reach out to friends, and I will sit quietly in prayer to the Universe, for us all.

A very special group of visitors to the zoo

A group of parents of kids with special needs working together

I am lucky to be able to volunteer at our local zoo. Most of the volunteers are seniors, and we love being there. It is a place to be with animals, be with families and help them learn and enjoy, and feel a part of something. This particular zoo does a lot of conservation work, partners with organizations (like the Amboseli Elephant Foundation in Africa), and has a wonderful vet hospital where rescued animals are brought to heal and either then go back into the wild (condors with lead poisoning from ingesting prey that was killed with lead bullets) or help them find a new forever home, like the 3 young mountain lion cubs that were recently rescued. Their mother was killed in an accident, and the cubs will not be able to survive in the wild as they did not get enough time with their mother to learn those skills.

I am on the behavior observation team. That means I get to spend several hours each time observing and recording animal behaviors. The zoo uses data to keep learning about the animals as well as to be able to see how they are doing and if anything needs to be adjusted to provide them with a better life. It is a zoo, yes, so, it is far from perfect. But it also has a lot of love given to these (mostly rescue) animals and can be a place where children can be taught about the wild and about respecting nature and its creatures.

I feel so blessed to be able to be a part of this. As a retired senior, I can now spend my time where I feel nourished, as well as giving back in ways that I can.

However, in addition to observing the animals, as you can imagine, I also get to observe the guests. We humans are such an interesting species, yes?

I see parents spending loving time teaching their children, allowing them all the time that they want at any exhibit.

I see parents rushing their children through to be able to get in as many exhibits as they can. Keeping to a schedule becomes primary.

And I see, sadly, many parents glued to their cell phones while the children are watching the animals, not even looking up to their parents anymore as they know that their attention is on their phones. I do my best to make eye contact with these kids, smile and let them know that they can approach me, maybe even share something about the animal that they are watching. It is a delightful connection, and sometimes I even get their parents’ attention!

One day I got to observe a very special group of guests. They were clearly together, probably about a dozen of them or so. All the children had some special need. These parents were so attentive, loving, and present with their children and to what was going on around them. It was a delight to watch and take in. The parents would take time to explain things, as well as share the excitement with their children about what they were looking at. And, what I also noticed was how this group was so supportive of each other. All the parents were keeping an eye on all the kids. It was a group outing, and everyone was taking care of everyone. It functioned like one big family, one loving group, all committed to making this experience a wonderful and safe one for all. Each could take a break when needed, knowing that others would be there to take over while they caught their breath for a few moments.

What a lovely sight to observe. I think that we could all learn from this. We can learn to support each other, to come together, to share the joy and the pain, to hold each other’s hands. We all have different needs and need attention. Some are just less obvious and quieter about it. I don’t mean to diminish at all the extra attention and work that special needs parents have, although I do also get to observe what looks like extra joy as well, when I see the love so openly expressed all around.

But I also don’t want to diminish the needs that we all have, the need to be seen, to be heard, to be paid attention to. We need to know that we can rest for a moment and know that someone will be there to help. We need to have special times where we share something and really take joy in the experience of that present moment in time.

I think that being an elder makes me a bit more aware of this. Watching all the families and their differences helps me keep learning and growing. And with each year, I realize how precious certain moments can be.

Hopefully I can keep sharing what I observe to help us all along this path of life. There are lessons and gifts everywhere if we stop and take the time to look and listen.

Watching this special group of visitors gives me hope.

Maybe we can learn how to come back together again, how we really are one big family on this precious earth, how we can share the joys and pain along the way. And maybe, just maybe, we can remember the power of kindness and love.

Feeling Lost

The world has changed and I can’t find my way. Yet.

Our country is in the midst of so much change. It feels chaotic, overwhelming, and like it’s too much. Some say that this is the tactic, to overwhelm us so that we cannot find our center, cannot get balanced, cannot think clearly and get lost in the sea of chaos, confusion, and destruction.

I agree that our political system needed reform, revamping, cleaning up. But that is not, in my opinion, what is happening. What I see is that our system is methodically being destroyed, piece by piece. The rhetoric would have us believe that it is for our good and to make us great. What I see is that it is for the good of a few and can make their wallets greater than they already are, with the cost being left for the rest of us to bear.

A would-be-king and bully (and in my opinion, this would-be-king shows no love for his subjects, only love for power and money and those who have it) is slowly trying to take over, change everything that we have stood for in this country, and destroy all rule of law. Laws that, even though imperfect, are meant to keep us safe, to help us progress, to be for our good. Instead of these laws, we are being told to conform, agree, and offer praise to this would-be-king. And fear begins to be planted for what might happen to any who disagree. Free speech is disappearing. Education and research are disappearing. Inclusion and the goal of unity for us all, which we desperately need, are disappearing. Divisiveness and hatred are being modeled and even rewarded. Killers are being pardoned and those who dare to disagree are being sought for the purpose of retribution. We are being separated from those who have been our allies and friends.

We can no longer disagree in a civil manner. Now what we are seeing is that everyone who doesn’t agree is called the other, an enemy to be hated and destroyed. What happened to the land of the free? What happened to the land that welcomed all with open arms, which promised to help them get a better life for them and their families? What happened to the country that was a world leader that tried to stand for values and ethics and the greater good, again, imperfectly, but at least the intention was there. There was pride for who we were and what we stood for, what we believed in, what our deepest core values were.

I am dismayed, shocked and frightened about all that is going on. I pray that resistance grows and gets strengthened, that our politicians, who we voted to help represent all of us, grow a backbone and do just that. I am sad. I am now an elder, so my time is short, but I worry about future generations. My young neighbors and their babies…what world will they inherit? This earth that is ours to take care of now will be more quickly raped, destroyed, and drilled, baby, drilled. The trees, the land, the creatures, this precious earth that is our home is being ravaged. She is our mother, and we are raping her. The animals are our fellow beings on this earth, and we are destroying them one by one.

Our forefathers tried to build in safeguards so that democracy could last. The Constitution was formed for a reason, and it is being ignored. Judges and orders are ignored. Non-elected people are allowed access to our private data, simply because they are wealthy. Wealthy financially, but certainly not in compassion, empathy and humanity. Being in tune with this is called woke. When did being awake to issues become a pejorative word? When did kindness get thrown out of the political arena? Are we now condoning violence as the best method to achieve what we want? Do we now feel the right to claim land that belongs to others? Do we now alienate our neighboring countries, neighbors who have helped us during disasters?

I have never felt shame about being an American before, and that makes me very sad. I love this country, but I do not love what is happening now. Can it be turned back around? I fear that some of the damage will take a long time to repair, if ever. How quickly it is being destroyed. I no longer doubt the power of cults.

People’s pain, suffering, and vulnerability have been manipulated and used to absorb them into this cult, with promises that cannot be kept, with words that have no substance, with lies that are believed to be truths.

The emperor has no clothes, but the followers will not see it.

We are in danger. The truth is painted as lies, while lies masquerade as truth. Critical thinking is maligned. The poisonous Kool-Aid has been swallowed.

That’s my darkness within and my fear. Those are my thoughts.

And yet, I cannot give up hope. I see and hear more about growing resistance. I was heartened to see all the protests on President’s Day. But we need to do more. Calls are being made to officials. Will they hear us? Companies are being boycotted. Will the rich buy them off or subsidize what their losses might be? Our president has been bought, and maybe the last election as well. We were proud to show what a peaceful transfer of power looked like. I wonder if this was the best way to proceed. Did we play right into their hands?

Was the country so afraid to elect a woman, and perhaps especially a black woman? Did they capitalize on racism and misogyny to diminish her. Do we really have a VP who thinks that childless women are worthless, unhappy, and unfulfilled in their lives. Women’s rights to decisions about their own bodies have been taken away.

Did we really have someone giving a Nazi salute with no consequences. Did they really cheer that salute and try to gaslight us into thinking it was something else.

We are being gaslighted in so many ways, and it can make us all feel crazy. We need to come together. We are stronger than this. We can do better. I need to believe that. I need to have hope. I need to use my voice and encourage others to do the same. We are more than this.

God help us all. Kindness and love are strong, often stronger than they get credit for. But we must also set boundaries where limits need to be set. We cannot allow ourselves to be destroyed. How do we come back together? Can we?

Tears of an Immigrant’s Daughter

What has happened to our country of welcome and opportunity?

I woke up in tears the other day. That has happened a lot lately. A lot. My heart feels heavy, the sadness and grief are a weighted blanket, but not one that brings comfort, rather one that weighs me down with such a sense of loss and pain that it can, at times, immobilize me, freeze me, imprison me.

I don’t know what to do lately or which direction to turn in, so I will write. I will write to allow space for the tears and pain of my soul to come out and be heard, be seen, be cared about.

A bit of my background

My parents were both immigrants. They took huge risks and a leap of faith coming to a new country, to make a better life for themselves and me.

It was hard. My mother, the only of 5 daughters that was not yet married, was the only one that came with her parents to America when my grandfather was able to apply for them to come. She knew no one, spoke no English, left the rest of her sisters, (including her twin sister), her friends and family behind.

My father came separately (my parents met and married in the U.S.). He worked hard to learn a trade so that he could make a living, learning plastering and bricklaying. He worked so hard. I remember him slowly walking in the door at the end of his work day, exhausted. He would clean up, eat dinner, try and watch some news, sometimes falling asleep in front of the tv, and go to bed to sleep so that he could start the same routine all over again the next day. This would be 6 days a week, sometimes 7.

I was an only child. My mother had several miscarriages, they wanted more children, but had only one, so their love and protection was fierce, so fierce that I sometimes felt suffocated. As an elder, I understand that now. They were holding on tightly to what they had, as they had lost so very much.

The courage of immigrants

They endured hatred, name-calling (there were many insults to Italians and especially to Sicilians, who were all branded with the title of “mafia”.) And they persevered, taught me to be so proud of this country as well as my heritage. My father would make sure to take me to the 4th of July parade and fireworks, my mom would make sure to cook turkey (along with traditional Italian food) for Thanksgiving. They were grateful to this country for what it had given them. Voting was a sacred honor.

I felt their pride and their pain and sacrifice. I am grateful for everything that they endured, what they gave me, for my life here.

And here we are today, with mass deportations. Families, children, people who risked so much to try and get a better life and provide a better life for their families are being sent away. I am not talking about the criminals, which, I believe, are not most of the immigrants.

These immigrants are often so hard working, vulnerable, eager to do what is needed, grateful for work that others might not take, grateful for any opportunities provided, loving their families and doing their best. A woman who used to clean my home would bring me her culture’s traditional food during the holidays. My gardener/handyman would bring me a plate that his wife prepared for me on Christmas Day. The warmth and open heart of these people would touch me deeply, reaching out to me and including me. making me feel seen and cared for.

We are a country of immigrants

Most of us come from ancestors who immigrated here. Mine are more recent, but part of that group that makes up our country. I have felt such pride in the past calling myself an American, being part of a country that welcomes others.

Yes, there is also much shame and sorrow about what has been done to those that have labeled as other in the past, what was done to the Native Americans, black people, other ethnicities and groups that were feared for their differences. It has not been a perfect history, by any means. But, we were beginning to see more and more of what our nation did to others, and trying to repair that, at least in part. The past cannot be repaired, nor should it be forgotten, as we need to learn from it.

But our intention can be to do better, to be better. Race, gender, ethnicity, customs, love in all of its forms…we can try to learn, to include, to accept, to understand better. We have a long way to go, but we can have an intention and path before us.

And here we are now. Here we are. My heart is aching for all the people. My soul aches about the inhumanity, the division, the hatred, the pain on all sides.

The Statue of Liberty must be weeping these days.

Our country has been a world leader, trying to work with all nations, and again, very imperfectly. And now we are building walls of exclusion. Exclusion can be done physically, financially, and a host of other ways, exclusion from common humanity, from cooperation, empathy and kindness. It seems that money and power have become the new gods, for some leaders at least.

Grief and hope

I am deep in grief. I will let myself feel this grief, let it wash over me and through me. I am older now, and even though I hang onto hope that this too shall pass and that love will triumph, I don’t know if it will happen in whatever time I have left on this precious earth. I may not get to see the other side, but inside, I still hold hope for the future and generations to come. I feel hope when I see people protesting, resisting, judges showing courage to try and slow down this attempted coup that we are witnessing.

I love this country, what is has been and tried to be, for most of my life. I believe in what the Statue of Liberty stood, and still stands, for. I appreciate this country in what I believe is the unique way that children of immigrants can. I pray for her soul to survive. May my tears of an immigrant’s daughter join with the tears of all who are grieving, mourning, and still hoping and fighting. May all our tears form an ocean of compassion, love, strength, endurance, resistance, resilience, and result in the final triumph of love.

The Boundaries of Love

Boundaries can allow love to flow more freely

Osh and me…love without words… across fences
(Photo credit to a friend of the author)

I was looking at the above photo the other day. This photo was taken the evening that the zookeepers and volunteers had gathered to spend time with Osh before he was to travel to the elephant sanctuary in Tennessee. (I had been volunteering with the elephants at the local zoo for over 11 years.) Things had happened and Osh ended up being alone at the zoo. It was time for him to be around other elephants. This photo captured a special moment between Osh and me. There was love across the fences, safe enough to allow it to flow freely and openly toward each other.

This got me thinking about boundaries and love. Here was yet another lesson learned at the zoo that I can apply to all of life.

This zoo has a policy of “protected contact.” For the safety of all, there is always a boundary between the staff and the elephants. And training is always done with positive reinforcement and food. (Training is needed so that the zookeepers can train the elephants to move into certain positions for any medical or caregiving procedures, like daily pedicures.)

I thought about the term “protected contact.” I think there is wisdom in this, more than I had ever thought about.

At the zoo, we were taught to respect that these animals were still wild and deserved to be respected as such, and thus fences/heavy gates are used for the protection of all.

I thought about my own history of relationships. These patterns of mine may not be true for everyone, as we all have our own histories and issues that we bring into our relationships. Now, as an elder, looking back, I can see that I tended to look to relationships for everything. I wanted to finally feel the love that I craved, the acceptance I was longing for. This was too much pressure to put on anyone, as well as unfair and impossible if I hadn’t learned to love myself. In essence, I was asking someone else to give me what I could not give myself, to heal my childhood wounds.

I would jump in, try to be whatever I thought my partner wanted me to be, and also then want them to be everything to me. I would eventually stop paying attention to my own needs, thoughts, feelings, and voice, after which I would eventually blame them for not being what I needed. That’s a setup for failure.

What I needed first was me. Me.

I need to remember that there are parts of me I must own and protect. Protect not as a way to distance myself, but paradoxically, as a way to be able to truly open up to another, because I’m sure of what the depth of me contains. This depth helps me be sure of who I am, what I feel, what I need, what I can accept, and what will absolutely not work for me.

This is some of the wisdom that age can help bring, the wisdom to finally come home to ourselves, the realization that we need and deserve boundaries and limits, and can learn to embrace the beauty and strength of the word “no”.

I’ve learned that I can love, but I need significant periods of solitude to regather myself, to check in and hear my voice. Knowing this, I won’t then have to get upset that my partner is crowding me. I can tune into myself to know when I need some time, so I can then more fully come back to the relationship. Boundaries help people feel safe. They know where your edges are. They can trust your “yes” because they know that you will say “no” when you need to.

I’ve learned that there are certain words, behaviors, and issues that are below the belt for me and that I don’t want used against me in any disagreement. That’s a boundary. That’s a fence.

I’ve learned that I bring myself as a separate person into any relationship with friends from my past that I want to keep. And time with them is important, time with just them. It keeps me balanced, whole, and less easily seduced into giving myself away to another person, so much so that I forget who I am. And I need to give a partner this same respect and space.

I know that I deeply need to be seen and heard. Not perfectly, but I need someone to be willing to try to learn how to hear and see me, and I will offer them the same.

It seems that we can learn from this idea of protected contact.

I can protect parts of me that are sensitive and vulnerable, take my time revealing parts of me, and be discerning as to whom I reveal things. I can remember to protect those parts of me that belong to only me, that are my treasures, my place of protected contact, and my sacred wildness.

All this isn’t about avoiding intimacy. It is about being intimate with myself first, honoring those sacred places in me, and loving those parts of myself first.

When we do this, when we honor our wildness and practice protected contact, we make it safer to love more deeply and give ourselves and others the sacred gift of boundaries.

The Gift of Sadness

We need not fear it

I’ve noticed how difficult it can be at times to simply sit and be with someone in their sadness.

It can be hard to see someone struggling, especially someone that we care about. It’s hard to see their tears, feel their pain, and to be with them in the darker parts of being human. We are drawn to want to help them feel better. I know that I can fall into that pattern as well and have to try and catch myself.

Maybe their sadness also reminds us of our own struggles, pain, and grief.

And so, well intentioned as it may be, we may try to distract them, ask them about something positive, try to help them see things differently, tell them that this too shall pass, or relate our own sad story and how we got through it.

But what if we just sat beside them and listened, perhaps put a hand on their shoulder for a moment, and let them know we are there beside them, caring, hearing them, seeing them?

We are not taught to be comfortable with all of our own feelings, to honor all of them and not just those that may feel more pleasurable. And if we are not comfortable with our own feelings, it’s also harder to be comfortable with someone else’s.

I think that sadness can be a gift of being human. We feel, and that’s a gift. And to feel sadness can mean we have loved and lost, or that we have lived and been bruised by life in other ways…. and to then share that with another is to expose a very tender and vulnerable part of ourselves. Sharing that vulnerability can create more depth and true connection between us, as we acknowledge each of our fragile places inside and treat them tenderly and with love.

I was watching a TV program the other day as this soulful singer performed “What Makes You Sad” ( Nicotine Dolls/ Sam Cieri.) When he sang the line “Tell me what makes you sad”, that question went right to my core. I could imagine someone asking me that, how that would make me feel that they wanted to really know me on a deeper level. As the song continued and the camera showed members of the audience, I could see others reacting as well, especially women, holding their hands up to their hearts.

Think about it…. If I ask you to tell me what makes you sad, what does that touch inside of you?

I have a dear friend who frequently asks me, when we talk on the phone, about what good things happened to me that day. I appreciate that he wants to know that, but there are times that his question may shut down where I really am emotionally at the moment, as I get the message that he only wants to hear the positive experiences. And so that’s what I share. But it inadvertently can create a bit more distance rather than closeness. And he’s not someone that I would likely call when I’m upset and need to talk.

Life has joy and pain, laughter and tears, and much bittersweetness. It’s all part of being human, of who we are and what we go through on this journey. How sacred it can be to share all of this with each other, to acknowledge our pain and broken pieces, and to realize we are in this together and can offer each other understanding, comfort, and love.

Maybe we can begin by hearing our own sadness, by really listening to our hearts and asking ourselves… Tell me what makes you sad… So then we will know the answer when someone asks us, and can more deeply hear their answer when we ask them.

Women of a Certain Age

Certain about what?

We females of the elder tribe are often referred to as”women of a certain age”. What does this even mean? What are we supposed to be certain about? Did I miss something somewhere?

I find that I’m not certain about a lot of things these days. I’m not certain about where my body and face will end up as they morph into what seems to be a combination of my mother’s and father’s aging faces and bodies.

I’m not certain how far south my breasts will travel. I’m not certain if my lips will disappear altogether as they roll back into my mouth, or how much more decorated my face and body will become as they get increasingly adorned with lines, wrinkles, and spots.

I’m not certain about which hikes I can take until I research the location of restrooms along the way. (Is this what they mean by “golden years”?)

It’s so important to keep our sense of humor, yes?

I’m not certain about whether I’ve fulfilled my purpose thus far in my life or even whether I know what that purpose might be.

I’m uncertain about where I’ll end up living as I continue aging, which of my friends will be on this path with me, who may leave too soon, whether my mind will stay with me. So many questions, so much that we cannot know.

And yet, I realize that I have had lessons and experiences along the way that do help me become more certain about at least a few things.

I’m learning to let go of things that I cannot control. That list gets longer every day.

I’m learning about the power of kindness, the exquisiteness of silence in a forest, the deepening connection that I feel with the earth and its creatures, the comfort of touching a tree and feeling that touch to my core, the loveliness of random connections, the gift of a smile that can change the course of my day, the slowing down that elderhood can bring, the slowing that helps me look around me and see more deeply, the relief of forgiveness and letting go, the bittersweetness of loss and grieving that is a testament to the depth of love felt.

I am learning that I still feel hope, even in the darkest times, when I look into the faces of my neighbor’s babies. And I’m hopeful when I see examples of human kindness every day.

My memory may not be as sharp these days, my body may not have its youthful vigor, but my heart expands and my spirit grows ever deeper.

I’m grateful these days for each morning that I wake up, for each breath, for my life.

And about all of that I’m very certain!