I gave myself a treat yesterday and stopped in to get a cappuccino at one of my favorite neighborhood cafes.

As I was sitting there, an older woman (my, how my definition of “older” changes over the years) slowly walked in with her cane, walked up to the counter to order, and sat down at the table beside me to wait. I had been on my phone up until then, and decided to put it away and simply be there and be more available, should she want to engage in conversation.

I did not want to intrude. I can also be a bit shy, so I simply sat there, feeling open, looking around, sipping my coffee. At one point, she looked my way, and I commented on how her food looked good. She mentioned that she bought herself this egg and bacon sandwich once a week. I responded that yes, we needed to treat ourselves.

I watched her (hopefully not too obviously) as she seemed to enjoy her meal, then brushed the crumbs off the table, and quietly drank her coffee. I wondered what her story was, what her life had and is like, did she live alone…so many questions. I felt that she was comfortable being there and I didn’t feel like conversation may have been anything that she wanted right then. I wanted to be open, and to also respect her boundaries. So I sat there a bit longer than I intended. And when I needed to leave, I made a joke about how coffee goes through me quickly as I got up. She pointed behind her to show me where the restroom was. We women, I think, have to know where the restrooms are located – especially after we reach a “certain age”. And I left, wishing her a good day. I made a note of the day of the week that it was, so that perhaps I might stop in that particular day and time again and have her begin to see me more regularly and perhaps we could strike up a conversation.

I looked at her, and I saw what may be a version of my own future self. She clearly was an independent woman, alone, and out and about. She walked slowly with her cane, but she walked. Will that be me? I live alone now, consider myself independent (and am grateful for my health and ability to be so every single day). I will continue to get more lines, more age related changes, more evidence of the passage of years and of my life. I love my solitude, and also cherish relationships with depth. I have no family that I keep in contact with, as they are quite far away and I didn’t grow up with them nor do I speak their language.

I realize now that I was sitting quietly beside her not only to be open to having contact, but to keep learning how to sit with the possible future version of myself and to become more comfortable with that, should I be blessed enough to live longer on this earth. I need to befriend that future version that may come to be, and open a dialogue with her inside me. Others may or may not approach me, but I must keep the conversation going with myself and not become invisible to me. I will still be there, with my story and my history. I will still be alive. And I can still treat myself to things and places that I enjoy. I can still claim and take my space, even if others may find me invisible. And maybe someday someone may sit quietly beside me at times, and simply be with me in that space that we share at that moment in time.

I am realizing that it is ok to feel lost – a lot.

I have been retired for almost two years now, two years during this pandemic. It has been a time of solitude (a very comfortable place for me most of the time), of inner exploration, of getting re-acquainted with who I am. After almost 69 years in this body and on this earth, you might think that I should already have that figured out, yes? Yet, I find that there is ever so much more to explore.

There are parts of me that have been quieted over the years – whether it be in the service of devoting my attention to my work, to my current relationships, to whatever may be first and foremost in my life at the time. And now, I no longer work at my job. So…that no longer defines who I am or how I structure my day, I am single, so a relationship no longer serves to create some definition of who I am in relation to someone else. I live alone, so housemates or family that lived with me before no longer serve to create those definitions and boundaries. I have no children or family that I feel close to that can also serve to define me as part of that group.

So, I feel lost at times. Lost without all those ways of helping me to define who I am and what my purpose is.

And it’s ok. It hasn’t always been ok to feel lost, but it is getting more and more comfortable these days. How can I find my new direction (or my way back home to mySelf) if I don’t get a little lost? How can I see more clearly who and what draws me toward them if I don’t stand in the space of not knowing for a while? How can I feel what brings me joy if I don’t become quiet and still – to allow those parts of me to emerge? How can I share who I am with you if I don’t take the time to go within and hear those things from myself? How can I truly find my direction if I don’t allow myself the acknowledgment of feeling lost?

So here I am. I write, and that is part of who I am and how I express myself. And I love when others read what I write and relate to any parts that I have written. That is part of the tribe that I belong to and part of my purpose. I paint, and love when others find something in my paintings that stirs anything in them or gives them pleasure.

I am in solitude quite a bit, and enjoy those times when I do choose to get together with friends. ( I also find that these times are more carefully chosen as I continue to age, as time becomes more precious with each passing year.)

I am more open with who I am these days, not having to present any kind of professional image that will be accepted by any employer.

I can pay more attention to the things around me these days. One of my joys for the past several years has been to volunteer are our local zoo. I am on the Behavior Observation Team and I get to spend two hour shifts weekly simply observing the elephants and recording their behavior. What lessons this continues to teach me. How little we are taught to simply be still, watch, and listen. And breathe. And simply be part of this earth and all of its wonders. Observing these majestic creatures has humbled me and taught me to stop and take in so much more of all that is around me.

I have bird baths in my back yard, and I am delighted to watch them and all their splashing about. It makes me smile and giggle, and keeps me busy running out there to replenish the water in the tiny bird bath as well as the bottoms of plant containers where they also love to bathe. Such pure joy! I never had the time before. Or never took the time.

So, do I sometimes feel lost? Absolutely. Do I get anxious about that? Yes, at times. And yet, it’s really a gift and blessing, I realize, to have the time and space to actually feel this and explore it and keep on finding my way back home – my way back home to me.

I wonder, Doctor, if you know that our phone appointment left me with an ache in my heart this morning.

I tried to get ready for our appointment, listing all my questions and concerns and requests for referrals, knowing how pushed you are for time and how I need to be ready and organized for our call. I understand that.

I was ready. At the end of each question or request for another referral, your question was “Is there anything else that you need before we end this call?”. Although innocent enough, I could feel the pressure you felt to get through this and onto the next appointment, or perhaps onto your lunch, since our phone appointment was at noon.

Do you know how important the relationship between a doctor and patient can be? Do you know that it is so much more than you providing the referrals, answers, ideas and then moving quickly to end the time? It is more than the mechanics and the details of what I might need at that time. It is the relationship with you that is also a huge part of the equation for me.

You are my doctor, my partner in my taking care of my health. That is significant to me. You are significant to me. Yet, I feel like you don’t even really remember who I am. I know that you have so many patients and such limited time….I truly understand, having been a social worker in the county skilled nursing facility myself before I retired. I know how productivity is measured. I know that healthcare is also a business. I know that you have things that have to be done.

For one moment, however, I would like to get your attention on a deeper level. In that phone conversation, our lives touched for a moment. And I am entrusting you with helping me live my best life in terms of my physical health and well-being. And when that phone call ended, I felt sad. Very, very sad. I know that this sadness is about much more than our brief interaction, but I also know that our interaction added to my sadness at what I see happening in so many places in terms of lost opportunities for connection.

The time spent together does not really have to be much longer, I think. It is the quality of the time spent together….the attention (true, present and deep connection) that makes a difference. To enable the other to feel really seen, heard, and attended to. Paid attention to. Cared for and about during those moments together. What a difference it could make with just a simple statement and question….like “I don’t have as much time as I might like, but I wonder, how are you doing….really?” And then to take a few moments to really listen and hear. It would make a difference for me.

You were much more present with me when we first began our relationship – you, the healer, and me ,the patient. You were newer to the system then. You have learned and become much more efficient, which is what is demanded of you. And I feel the loss. And it makes me sad. It intensifies the aloneness that I, as a single older woman, can feel in this world.

I recently sent you a copy of the Advance Directive that I formulated with my Estate Attorney. You responded that you received it. Nothing else. It would feel so different to perhaps have an acknowledgment of what that process can be like…..what this time of life can be like….and that you heard and understood my wishes.

I took a chance at one point not too long ago and commented on the different quality of your email responses. You laughed and said that you were now following a formula where you could plug things into a template and that this worked much more efficiently. Oh…….I see….

So here I am, putting myself back together again. Shutting down the part of me that was open to you and hoping for a more human connection. Moving on with my day. I miss what we used to have. I miss how some of my previous doctors would talk with me, even (dare I say) share a piece of what was going on with them…..? A doctor who was retiring that shared some of his struggles throughout the years that I had known nothing about…..but he shared that with me and for a moment, we were two human beings connected. Another doctor who took the time to offer comfort after a less than sensitive phone call from another specialist giving me bad news on a late Friday afternoon…..news that turned out to be false. My doctor’s reassurance and presence helped me get through what could have been a weekend from hell.

I know that what I wish for may be a reflection of my age, and that things are different now. I have to say, though, that I still see how others respond when I take the time to really listen. That hunger and need has not changed. Have we learned to expect it less? Have we compartmentalized that to only primary “significant” relationships? Dare I say that all relationships have some level of significance?

I don’t blame you, Doctor….. I know that times have changed and that you are overwhelmed with patient care and numbers and documentation. I know. But I miss the moment of soul to soul connection that we might have had. That connection can be so nourishing and make a difference in someone’s day, someone’s week, someone’s month, someone’s life. I might have given you a moment of connection as well ….. a moment when you might have remembered why you first became a doctor…..

I recently inquired about becoming one of the writers for Crows Feet, which I am excited to join. The woman responding very kindly suggested, after she read some of my blog posts, that it would fit in with Crows Feet, that I might want to look at what I might be able to cut out of my posts, to make my writing more succinct…..to the point….

This got me thinking….(which can always be a dangerous thing, but here I go anyway…)…

Isn’t that something that we could all use for our life, for our relationships? How many times have I not been as clear as I might be in conversations and not stated as clearly as I might exactly what I was trying to communicate…? How many times was I as clear as I could be in stating exactly what I needed and wanted? How many extra words may have gotten in the way that made it more difficult to really understand or hear what I was trying to say?

I laugh when I think back on a time when someone gave me some feedback on a note that I was trying to write at work where I was attempting to set a limit and say no to a particular task…..
I had written a rather lengthy note explaining what was going on, why I wasn’t able to take on this particular task, how I appreciated what they needed, how I would not be able to do a proper job on this task given everything else that was going on, etc….

This friend told me to face my computer, erase all that I had written, and dictated what I should write instead. He said….”Write this…….I am not able to take this on at this time. Thank you.” I sat at my desk in a bit of shock. I wondered, is he serious? Is this enough? I laughed at the difference from what I had written and what he proposed.

I wonder….how often have I and do I continue to do this in my life? How often do I feel like I have to explain everything that I do, make excuses when I need to say no, apologize for setting limits, feel like I cannot simply say “no”? How often does the bottom line and point of what I am trying to say get lost in too many words? How often am I not as clear as I might be in expressing what I want and need and feel? How often do I feel the need to dress up the truth, hide it in excuses, make it sound softer and more gentle ? I am not saying that we need not be kind in our communications…..but, for me at least, I need to be more direct. Take a deep breath and speak my truth more clearly and succinctly….and face whatever the reaction may be, knowing that I have spoken my truth.

And also, how often may I have waited a bit too long to say what I needed and perhaps have it come out more harshly than needed? How often have I not been as clear with some of my feelings…? How many times may I have reacted out of fear or anger or hurt, but not admitted these feelings before, instead only lashing out with the person having no idea of all that may have led up to my intense reaction at that moment?

Sometimes an editor tells you to cut out all the excess. Sometimes an editor asks you to be more clear and direct with what you are trying to say. Or tells you to take a breath, step back, and think about it a bit more and then try again. To think about your audience and what they may be reading (or hearing) and understanding…..

You never know when you will get another valuable lesson in your life. This kind woman gave me a gift…..she gave me feedback about my writing . My writing come from my heart and soul. She gave me feedback on how to have that better heard and understood… How to express that heart and soul more directly….cut out the excess. She may not have known that she gave me this gift, but she did – and I am grateful.

Now…..how to figure out how to get this (inner) editor for my life that helps bring out who I truly am. I realize I have been using internal editors who are critical in ways that encourage me to inhibit and hide who I am….I think it’s time to fire these editors and bring on the new….editors who help me clearly and directly write the book of my life. So that it will be the book of my life, not what I think that someone else thinks my life should be. Written with honesty, clarity, courage, (some fear, but what is courage without fear?) Written from my heart and soul – so that others can see who I am, maybe relate, and maybe then have a bit more permission from their own editors to express who they truly are. And then, maybe, we can truly see each other for all that we are? And see that we, indeed, are perfect (faults and rough edges and all) just as we are. And that it’s ok to show that to the world and not have to hide it in lots of camouflage or extra words or apologies…..and that it’s ok to ask for what we need and want (we may not get it, but it is still ok to ask for it), and that we deserve (in fact, need) to be who and what we are while we are still alive.

Solitude is a gift to me. Solitude is the place where I can sit, listen and actually hear myself (and mySelf), and replenish my spirit and soul. It is something that I require in order to sustain myself and in order to also be able to relate deeply to those with whom I choose to relate with. I am particular about who I choose, but that topic is for another post.

This pandemic, although I would not wish this on anyone, has brought several gifts to me…..one being that since I retired (right after the pandemic started, as luck would have it), I have spent much time alone in solitude with no pressure to do anything or be anything more than what I am in the quiet space of my own home.

I am lucky (at least in my value system and life) to live alone and feel comfortable with this. Living alone gives me the space and time and quiet to rediscover who I am. Rediscovering the parts of me that had been set aside during all the years of working in my career and the fatigue and exhaustion that sometimes accompanied that.

At first I wasn’t sure how to navigate this whole new life where I was completely responsible for the daily structure and purpose. It was another added blow to lose three kitties (two of them had been with me for 17 years) in the first year after retirement. It became a bit confusing just what I was grieving at which particular moment. My beloved kitties and companions…..my entire life as I knew it and my definition of self as I knew it….my sense of purpose…..waves of grief would flow over me for all of these things….and more. Grief for my youth. Grief for what society defined as being “productive”. Grief for my sense of belonging to a group of people who became my family, given the hours we would spend working together at the job. And in the pandemic, grief for the world as we knew it. Everything changed, and I lost my sense of direction.

So here I am now, almost 2 years post retirement (it will be 2 years in May)…..and I am quieter, calmer, more pensive, and so very grateful. I now can write more (although it becomes increasingly clear to me that I need to set up a bit more structure to do that more consistently), I can paint (and this can now be an obsession revisited and delighted in), and I can exercise when I want (repeat the line here about needing to set up a bit more structure to do that more consistently), go out for walks when I want, have coffee when I want, do nothing when I want (I consider it vital to have times where I simply just sit and let things flow through me to see what comes up), go to sleep when I want, get up when I want, (although again some structure seems helpful. I just don’t need to be rigid about that.) Such gifts.

Is there pain and sadness also involved in the gifts of solitude? Absolutely. I feel such deep sadness at times, and loneliness that cannot be soothed by another human. I feel fear and quiet amazement at the realization that this body that I have been loaned really does have an expiration date. I will die. Of course we all die, but aging makes that fact much more real and in your face (and body, and functioning, and mind, and in all sorts of ways….). I find it strange as I take care of estate planning and am thinking about what final arrangements that I would like….it feels strange to plan for your own demise.

Yet that also brings gifts. How much more precious each moment becomes. And how important it is for me to not rush to try and necessarily fill it with adventures (although some of this, of course, is fun and good to do), but to rather focus on how much to more fully live this life in each moment. To appreciate each breath. To take delight in watching a bird take a bath and let myself enjoy that moment and all of its beauty.

I am lucky enough to volunteer at our local zoo, observing our elephants. I spend two hour shifts simply watching and recording their behavior – and being with them. How little, I realize, we do that with each other and at times even less so with ourselves. To simply allow ourselves to be….to be alive to each moment and each breath.

I am grateful for this chance and space to share some of my thoughts with those of you who may read this. I am grateful for your time, your attention, and for sharing a moment connected in time. My solitude helps me appreciate real connections even more…..and appreciate each of you. We are still here – still expressing ourselves – still very much alive.

I almost threw out a painting that I was working on several days ago. It just wouldn’t come out right, and I thought it was a lost cause….

And then, I thought…well, I have heard that paintings get painted over sometimes….so why not at least throw some paint on this canvas and see if I can make it work.

So, first attempt…..and the painting was not what I had hoped for at all….so I put it away for a day to see how I would feel and what might come up. And, the next day or so, I tried again to modify it, cover up what I thought didn’t work, and see what I could do to make it look like what I meant for it to be…..This was a first attempt at this particular animal, and it was looking like every other animal except the one that I was trying to paint! Back to the canvas day after day after day. I sometimes share my progress with my paintings with several friends who enjoy seeing the stages of a painting. Not so much with this one…..as the voices in my own head were critical enough and I didn’t want to add any more to the jury within….! I only shared with one dear person who I know is supportive and kind, and who I trust to show my imperfect process ….in my paintings and in my life.

Onward. More paint added, more adjustments made…..better, but still not right. Put it away again for the day. I became amused at myself having become a woman obsessed with this particular painting. Every extra moment became devoted to working on it. I can be persistent, if nothing else…!

Still not right…but getting better …..

And then, it actually began to look like what I was attempting to paint…..this animal was beginning to show himself on the canvas! Such excitement and relief!

I have finished the painting now, and it is good enough.. I still see areas that are not quite “perfect”…but it is good enough. It is actually a gift for a dear friend, so I put even more pressure on myself….it is a surprise gift and I want it to be a happy surprise….Ah, the internal voices within and their constant chorus and judgment. Yet, I am happy to say that I have added other jurors to the group who speak much more on my behalf with kindness and compassion and a more objective eye….and I am grateful. So grateful. I am continuing to interview more of these positive jurors….it will be an ongoing project for the rest of my life….

As with most things in life, there has been yet another lesson for me in this process. Perhaps it is one that some of you may be able to relate to as well?

Don’t give up on your life…..the canvas is not done yet. and things can be painted over and shifted while you are still alive…..you can keep working on things….you can keep going. Don’t throw out the canvas before you get to see what might become a masterpiece. Your life. Your canvas. Your palette of colors. Your glorious imperfections that add to the overall beauty of who you are and all that you bring to this world. You are unique. You have beauty that is uniquely yours. You are a work in progress, and not done yet…..not while you are still here. You are beauty in the making. Walk away from whatever you are working on if you need to for a while….it’s ok to take a break. And things may look differently in the morning. Take your time. Be patient. Laugh at all the versions of your life that may not be quite what you were exactly hoping for….and keep on going. The canvas has more to reveal. So do you.

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.